


Escort Me To The Gates Of Hell

by GraduateGraduWait (GraduateGraduate)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Escorts, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Artist!Steve, Blind Date, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Bottom Steve Rogers, Choking, Christmas, Cuddling, Edging, Face Slapping, Face-Fucking, Filth, Filthy filthy filth, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Full Body Blushing!Steve, Hand Jobs, Home for Christmas - Freeform, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, I Have Written Some Truly Despicable Characters, Kissing, M/M, Masturbation in Shower, Pain, Pining, Poker Player!Bucky, Rimming, Rope Bondage, Shower Sex, Smut, Top Bucky Barnes, Wedding date, being so cute, call boy, fake boyfriends, hand holding, safe words, so much pain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-05
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-08-13 03:25:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 47,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7960570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GraduateGraduate/pseuds/GraduateGraduWait
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve finds himself in need of a date for a wedding.  Sam sets him up with a friend, but doesn't tell Steve what that friend does for a living.  It doesn't take long for Steve to find himself in way too deep.</p><p>Way too deep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thanks to my betas, the wonderful [DangerousNotBroken](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Dangerousnotbroken/pseuds/Dangerousnotbroken) and delightful [Petrichor_Amber](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Petrichor_Amber/pseuds/Petrichor_Amber)! They have both had a heavy hand in improving this fic.
> 
> This started as a secret project that I surprised Dangerous with, and I cannot even express how much I enjoyed revealing it to her and having her yell at me about it. Best.
> 
> Updated: 12-26-2016  
> This is a sex-work positive fic. It portrays sex work in a somewhat glamorized light and is not an accurate representation of what most sex workers experience, how they think or feel about their work, or the industry at large. Please know this while reading.

Steve’s heart sank when he pulled the brown card from the envelope. Sam was watching him, so he forced a smile to his lips even though he knew it didn’t reach his eyes.

“I wasn’t actually sure I’d get one of these,” Steve never looked away from the card.

The card announced in cheerful cursive that Steven Grant Rogers was requested to witness the marriage of Angela Marie Martenelli to Margaret Anne Carter in one month’s time. Below the date and location were two red lip prints.

Steve pulled the little RSVP card from the envelope. It requested he and his plus one respond to the invitation within the week. On the back of the card was a hand-written note he recognized as Peggy’s. _We really do hope you’ll come, Steve._

“Of course you were going to get an invite, Steve.” Sam brought out his counsellor voice. His _trust me_ voice.

“Oh yeah? When did you get yours?” Steve glanced up from the invite to read Sam’s face. He saw the splash of guilt that Sam didn’t cover in time.

“…Last month. Okay, so Ange took a little convincing. But we all knew Peg would bring her around.”

“Who do I even bring to my ex’s wedding?” Steve inspected the RSVP card. Peggy had already circled the _plus-one_ , not giving him the option to go alone. “I’m not seeing anyone.” Steve didn’t mean for it to come out sounding so full of self pity, but it did. “I don’t want Angie to feel threatened, I don’t want Peggy to think I’m trying to make her jealous. Who do I bring that shows that I’m happy for Peg and I’m doing well?”

“Who’s that new girl at the gallery? Bring her.”  
  
“Gamora? She’s seeing someone. Besides, I doubt she’d want to be caught dead in public with me.”

“Luke?”

“I wouldn’t want to give him the wrong idea by inviting him to a _wedding_. I went out with him, like, twice.”

“What about Sharon?” 

“Really, Sam. Sharon? First off, Peg’s niece will have her own invite to the wedding, and second she’s _Peggy’s niece._ ”

“No, you’re right. That was a bad suggestion.” Sam looked like he was thinking hard. “You need someone moderately attractive who’s into you, but not over-the-top like either of you is trying to prove something.”

“Yeah, you know anyone?”

“I might have a friend.”

“Alright,” Steve turned the RSVP card over. Under Peggy’s note he wrote _Wouldn’t miss it for the world. If Angie will allow, maybe I can finally have that dance._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi my lovelies,
> 
> We're coming up on a year since I started releasing chapters from this piece, and I continue to be floored by the response you guys gave it.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who supported it from the beginning, everyone who sent me comments and messages, who yelled and squealed at me. And thank you to everyone who continues to find it or comes back to re-visit this piece of my heart. I hope you love it.
> 
> Love,  
> GG


	2. Chapter 2

“What’s his name again?” Steve called to Sam as he knotted his tie in place. He inspected it in the mirror, making small adjustments so it hung straight and flat.

“James,” Sam called back from the room across the hall. “He’s going to meet us there.”

“A blind date at a wedding?” The butterflies in Steve’s stomach did a little dance. He had a terrible feeling about this.

“It’s going to be fine, Steve.” Sam came around the corner. He looked stunning all dressed to the nines. “James knows what the situation is. He’s going to be your low-key, non-threatening boyfriend for the evening. It won’t be obvious you don’t know each other, and he won’t draw so much attention to the two of you that it looks like you’re trying to rub anything in Angie or Peggy’s faces.”

“I still feel weird about it.” Steve shrugged into his suit jacket, fixing a royal blue pocket square in place. “I don’t know anything about him. What’d you say he does again?” 

“He’s in Public Relations. You’ll like him, I promise.”

*

“There he is,” Sam gestured to a man leaning against a black Audi as they pulled into the parking lot.

Steve took him in. Tall, but not taller than him, dark brown hair smoothed back into a small bun at the nape of his neck. He wore a perfectly tailored black suit paired with a black button down and a subtly striped black tie. He was definitely attractive but he down-played it; so far Steve was impressed.

“Sam! Good to see you, man!” James accepted Sam’s handshake and pulled him into a one-armed hug.

“Been a while,” Sam’s grin was full and genuine.

“Steve!” James placed a hand on each of Steve’s shoulders. He ran them down his biceps, squeezed gently, and pressed a gentle kiss to Steve’s cheek.

Steve felt the blush crawling up his neck to settle in his cheeks. James was over-familiar, but it wasn’t unpleasant. And it was the right move, seeing as they had just met for the first time in a parking lot filled with the wedding guests they were going to be telling they’d been dating for a few weeks at least.

“Nice to meet you, James,” Steve basically whispered.

“ _James_ ,” James laughed. “So formal.” Steve noted the way the corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled. “Call me Bucky. Pleasure’s mine.” He took a step back to further inspect Steve. “Sam’s description of you doesn’t do you justice.”

Steve’s blush flourished anew. He shot Sam a look.

Sam raised his hands in defense, “Hey, hey, I thought it’d be better to undersell than oversell.”

“How do you two know each other, anyway?” Steve asked, trying to get the red of his cheeks back under control.

“Friend of a friend,” Sam responded. “We play poker together every few weeks. I still haven’t been able to figure out James’ tell.”

“I don’t have one,” James winked. “Shall we?” He offered Steve his arm, which Steve accepted.

Steve wasn’t quite comfortable being this close and familiar with someone he had only just met, but it wasn’t as awkward as he had expected. He tried not to fondle the bicep beneath his fingers too much, but Steve was surprised at just how _firm_ Bucky was under that jacket.

They wove their way through the lobby of the old Victorian-style building. Steve smiled to himself as he took in the venue. It was perfectly Peggy; elegant without being uppity.

Steve wasn’t sure what to do with his hands while they were waiting in line at the bar to grab a drink.

“C’mon, at least _look_ like you like me,” Bucky chuckled as he leaned in to him and guided one of Steve’s hands to his lower back. “We’re dating, remember?”

Steve blushed again, as he thanked the bartender for their drinks and dropped his change into the tip jar. He handed Bucky his beer and then returned his hand to Bucky’s back, steering them around to mingle with the other guests. 

“Steve!”

Steve turned to see one of Peggy’s co-workers, Daniel, wave at him before he started to make his way over, drink in one hand, crutch in the other.

“Good to see you, Steve. Wasn’t sure if you’d be here,” Daniel greets him.

“Good to see you too, Sousa. It’s been a long time.” Steve shook his hand after giving him a moment to shuffle his crutch and drink around to free one up. “This is, J-” he caught himself, “Bucky.” Better to introduce him with his nickname if they were going for comfortable couple.

Bucky shook Daniel’s hand, “Sousa, was it?”

“Daniel Sousa,” he laughed. “I respond to either. So this your new fella?” Daniel directed the question to Steve who just blushed in response. “How’d you two meet?”

“We, uh…” Steve started but his mind blanked. They hadn’t discussed a backstory at all. There hadn’t been time and Sam hadn’t put one in place for him. _Shit_.  
  
“Daniel, there you are!” Jarvis seemingly appeared out of nowhere right next to Bucky. “We’re doing photos in the garden if you’re not too busy socializing on _Peggy’s_ big day.” Jarvis turned, noticing Steve and Bucky for the first time. “Steve,” he greeted, “Glad you made it. Peggy will be thrilled!”

“Well, the brides call,” Daniel shook Bucky’s and Steve’s hands again. “Good to see you both!” and then he was limping away as quickly as he could manage to keep up with Jarvis stiffly making his way across the grounds.

As soon as they were out of ear-shot again Steve turned to Bucky. “How did we meet?” he asked, nearly frantic.

Bucky huffed out a laugh like Steve was freaking out over nothing. “I was a client at your gallery. You helped me pick out a piece for my living room,” he answered simply. “If they press, discuss a piece you like that you’ve sold recently.”

“And then?” Steve wasn’t at all sure people would buy this story.

“And then what?” Bucky looked at Steve like he suddenly had a third eye. “Have you seen you? You’re gorgeous. I left my card with a note asking you to call me if you wanted to grab a drink and talk art off the clock.”

“And …I did.”

Bucky grinned. “There you go, back on track.”

Steve noticed everyone seemed to be trickling out to the gardens when Sam came up behind them.

“Ceremony is starting soon, we should go find seats.”

Steve swallowed his last swig of beer – he hadn’t meant to drink it so fast – and Bucky deserted his half-full bottle as they made their way to the lush lawn full of white chairs.

They were barely settled into their seats when the music started and Howard Stark, Sousa, and Jarvis began making their way down the aisle to stand at the front with the officiant. They were followed by Peggy’s parents; her mother smiling and waving proudly at the crowd, her father dabbing the corners of his eyes with a handkerchief. Steve smiled when he saw them. He’d always known Peggy wouldn’t allow anyone to ‘give her away’. Once her parents were seated in the front row, the officiant asked for everyone to rise for the first bride.

Steve’s heart stopped when he first saw Peggy approaching. She was stunning. She wore a tight white pencil skirt dress with a subtle peplum detail. It was modest but sexy as hell, paired with red heels and her signature red lips, and for a brief moment Steve forgot it wasn’t him she was meeting at the end of the aisle.

She smiled and blushed coyly from beneath dark lashes at her beaming friends and family as she made her way to stand with her bridesmates and await her bride. The officiant invited everyone to take a seat as Angie’s bridal party made their way to the front. Steve couldn’t take his eyes off of Peggy for even a second, and for the briefest moment, as Angie’s parents were finding their seats, Peggy’s eyes met his and he was flooded with regret. She smiled wide and gave him the smallest of winks, and he was the biggest idiot in the world; for taking too long to see what he’d had right in front of him, for letting her go, for not asking her to come back, for being here today, for bringing a fake date. What was he _doing_ here and why wasn’t it him up there promising to love her for the rest of his life?

But then the officiant asked them all to rise again, and he saw Peggy’s face light up. He’d never seen her light up like that before. In all the times he’d made her laugh or given her an unexpected compliment, or she’d looked at him with love in her eyes, none of that matched the uninhibited adoration that graced her face now. And as quickly as the feeling of regret and self-pity had arrived, it was gone again. She was happy. She was happier than he’d ever seen her. Steve smiled a small sad smile to himself, and then he turned to join the rest of the crowd in watching Angie make her way down the aisle.

Angie’s face mirrored Peggy’s, and they looked at each other through the entirety of the ceremony as if there were no witnesses there; the two of them were the only ones in the world who existed. And Steve could find it in himself to be happy for them because that’s how it should be.

As Peggy started her vows, Steve felt strong fingers intertwine with his own and give his hand a gentle squeeze.


	3. Chapter 3

“Lovely ceremony,” Bucky said as they made their way back across the grounds.

“It was, wasn’t it?” Steve smiled. The whole thing had been _perfectly_ Peggy and Ange, and Steve couldn’t be happier for the pair of them. They followed the crowd in, hand-in-hand, and made their way to the bar as the happy couple finished up with the family photos.

“So why wasn’t it you?” Bucky asked.

Steve stared at him for a moment. He hadn’t mentioned that he and Peggy had dated. “Did Sam tell you?”

“No, the way you looked at her did.” When Steve still didn’t answer the question, Bucky looked apologetic. “We don’t have to talk about it. Sorry I brought it up.”

“No,” Steve sighed. “It’s fine.” He paused to order them another pair of beers. As they turned away from the bar he tried to figure out how to concisely explain his relationship with Peg. “She saw my value and supported me when no one else did. I loved her ambition and never held her back. We were perfect for each other until we suddenly weren’t. We weren’t going in the same direction anymore. And we were still both doing the things we wanted to do in life. We just weren’t doing them together. We spent less and less time with each other and one day we realized we still wanted the best for each other, but we didn’t really _know_ each other anymore. Y’know? I thought she was the love of my life. And I thought I was hers. But obviously that’s not true.” He hoped it didn’t come out sounding bitter, because he wasn’t. “I don’t think she ever looked at me and lit up quite as much as she did when she saw Angie today. I mean, there was a time when we made each other happy, but never as happy as she is now.” He paused. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that I truly am happy for her.”

“Love’s a funny thing,” Bucky smiled sadly. “Do you really believe in love of your life, soulmate types?”

“Yeah, I do,” Steve wasn’t sure why he answered as quickly as he did. But he truly believed that there was someone out there who would be his other half. The problem was that he had a bad habit of feeling like everyone had potential to be that person. “What about you?”

Bucky shook his head. “Not really.”

“Why not?”

Bucky tilted his head to one side while he thought. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s because I don’t date very much. I’m not sure I’ve ever actually been in love. But I’m really happy with my life. It seems like such a waste of energy to be unsatisfied with the life I’ve built just because I haven’t found a ‘soulmate’." 

“That’s fair, I guess.” Steve was sad for him that he hadn’t experienced love. On the one hand, there was a fair amount of pain and suffering that seemed to stick to love like a shadow. But the thrill that accompanied the fall was something you couldn’t find anywhere else. He kept whatever sadness he felt for Bucky to himself.

He and Bucky didn’t get much more time to chat during the cocktail hour. Sam came round, as did other mutual friends of Steve’s and Peggy’s. Steve fell into a cycle of stale conversations with old acquaintances: _yes, it has been a long time; no, I wouldn’t miss it for the world; yes, I’m very happy for her and Angie; been good to see you too._

Steve was relieved when dinnertime arrived. Not so much because he was hungry – a wide variety of appetizers had been circulating – but because dinner meant a seating chart, and a seating chart meant he’d be placed in the vicinity of approximately six people Peggy thought he’d be most comfortable with. He could stop recycling the same four lines and have a real conversation with someone.

He located his and Bucky’s name cards at a table near the centre of the room. He was seated with Sam on his right, and he recognized about half the names at the table. Sharon traded cards with someone Steve didn’t know before they arrived so that she was on Bucky’s left. Steve was trying to explain what Sharon did for a living to Bucky, but truth was he wasn’t really sure and he was hoping she’d help him out, but she never did. She just laughed as he struggled to recall what he actually knew about her.

The happy couple finally made their entrance into the hall. As they took their seats the guests began to clink their knives against their glasses.

“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” Steve chanted with the crowd as the room reverberated with the sound of clinking glass.

“Now now,” Howard’s voice rose over the noise. “As MC there are a few things I’m to notify you of before we start dinner. And since you’re going to force the issue, the first is that the lovely couple will not be kissing on demand whenever you clink your glasses. If you want a kiss, you must give a kiss. So, since I heard Mr. Rogers yelling louder than anyone, the first kiss is yours.” Howard waved his hand through the air in Steve’s direction. People were looking expectantly and Steve’s eyes went wide. He was not at all prepared for this. He looked to Bucky with an I-can’t-do-this look in his eyes.

Bucky stood up, and offered him his hand. When Steve took it, Bucky pulled him to his feet and stepped in close. Steve could feel Bucky’s hips pressed against his, and before he could fully register it, Bucky had a hand at the back of his neck, fingers pulling gently at the hair at his nape. He felt heat rush to his cheeks, the flush spread up from his chest to paint his face red. His eyes darted from Bucky’s grey eyes to his mouth and back again as Bucky brought his lips closer to his own. Steve felt Bucky’s breath against his lips, warm, scented like the beer he was drinking, and he was just about to lean in to the kiss, to breathe him in, when Bucky brought his other hand to Steve’s lower back and suddenly dipped him. Steve’s heart skipped at least two beats as he held Bucky’s gaze, supported fully by the man’s hands, before Bucky finally closed the distance between them. Their lips locked and Steve’s heart raced back to life. Bucky kissed him languid and slow, slipped him the tiniest amount of tongue – all for show, but it left Steve wanting more – before pulling Steve back upright. Steve’s face was hot and flushed, and he felt like he was breaking the surface of the ocean when the noise of the crowd cheering came through loud and clear as Bucky smoothed his jacket and tie back down.

Bucky winked at him as they took their seats. Peggy and Angie were grinning as they stood to replicate the kiss. They stepped in close, and before Peggy could get her hands into position, Angie dipped her back. Peggy gasped audibly before Angie laid one on her, and there was a brief moment where Angie nearly dropped Peg, but they managed to get her back to her feet while the crowd clapped and hollered. Peggy clasped at her chest and wiped little tears of mirth from her eyes once she was standing on her own two feet again.

“Good show, good show!” Howard announced. “Alright, now, the other announcement is that speeches will be taking place _after_ dinner. So if the folks at table one would like to make their way over to the buffet…” 

Steve barely saw Angie and Peggy’s kiss. He was too busy mentally reliving his own.  

*

Dinner gave Steve a chance to actually get to know Bucky between bites. Or would have, if he could get a question in.

“So what’s a day in the life of Steve Rogers like?” Bucky asked.

Steve finished chewing his mouthful before he answered. “Most days I wake up early enough to go for a run, I’ll spend a little time sketching with breakfast before I head over to the gallery. Work with artists to get pieces set up, work with clients to find pieces they’re interested in. If it’s slow, I use the open studio to work on something of my own. I have time for errands and art in the evening. What’s a day in your life like?”

“What do you know about me so far?” Bucky asked.

“Just that you play poker with Sam and work in Public Relations.”

Bucky laughed, “Yeah, PR is interesting for sure. As you can imagine, no two days are ever really the same.”

“You work for anyone famous? Anyone I’d know?”

Bucky laughed again, “I really can’t talk about my clients.” He changed the subject before Steve could argue, “How are your dancing feet? You gonna take me for a spin, or will I have to find a different partner?”

“I’m alright. I’ll try not to step on your toes.”

*

Bucky and Steve danced the night away. It didn’t take any time at all for Steve to feel comfortable in his arms. He spent the remainder of the night with Bucky; dancing, laughing, sharing whispers and stealing kisses.

Steve had consumed a sufficient amount of alcohol when he leaned in close to whisper in Bucky’s ear while playing with his tie. “I’m dying to see what you look like without all these clothes." 

Bucky swallowed a moan and chuckled soft and low. “Well, that could be arranged. I’m booked in at the hotel down the street. You’re more than welcome to join me.”

“Hotel? The drive wasn’t _that_ long.”

“No, it wasn’t. But I always grab a nearby hotel room when I go to a wedding. It’s about the same price as taking a cab home and back again to grab my car, and if I don’t need it I can put up someone else who would have otherwise driven home.”

Steve felt his heart leap a little at that. Sure, he was already attracted to this beauty of a man, but if he were asked later to pinpoint exactly when his descent began he’d point to this moment when he found out Bucky had foresight and valued looking out for the safety of those around him.

“So?” Bucky asked, eyebrow cocked in question.

Steve swallowed hard trying to keep his heart in place. “I owe Peg a dance. We’ll go after.”

“Sure thing,” Bucky kissed his cheek as the music changed.

Steve made his way over to where Peggy and Angie were dancing cheek to cheek. Peggy was smiling wide as Angie whispered something to her. Steve could see a familiar twinkle in her eyes that had gone out for him a long time ago.

“May I cut in?” he asked Angie.

Angie smiled, “Well of course. Ya just can’t keep her.” She winked at Peggy as she retreated to grab a drink and give her feet a rest.

Steve stepped in, taking one of Peggy’s hands in his own, placing his other hand at the small of her back as they fell into a rhythm. 

“Congratulations, Peg,” he meant it, but he knew it still came out sad.

“Thanks, Steve. I’m glad you came. I hope it wasn’t… too hard.” Her eyes were soft and understanding.

“You know, It might have been if it weren’t so obvious Ange is the right person for you,” Steve’s smile still didn’t reach his eyes, but he could tell from the way Peggy smiled that she knew he was being genuine.

“Thanks, Steve,” she whispered. “Your new gentleman seems pretty great,” she nodded her head in Bucky’s direction. He was standing near the edge of the dance floor chatting with Sam. He raised a drink to them as he and Steve made eye contact across the room. “I’ve seen how he looks at you. It’s evident you have something special. Hold on to him.”

Steve laughed, more to himself than anything else, that Peggy could think she was seeing some sort of deep connection between him and this guy he’d met earlier that afternoon. She was seldom wrong but this was one instance where Steve was going to let her believe she was right regardless of the facts.

“Thanks, Peg.” The song started to wind down. Steve pecked her on the cheek. “Congrats again, to you both,” he said before letting Peggy go as Angie stepped back in to dance with her wife.

Steve smiled at the pair of them before letting his eyes skim over the room to settle on Bucky. He had already shrugged into his own jacket and had Steve’s draped over his arm.  
  
“Shall we?” Bucky asked as he helped Steve into his jacket.

*

Bucky slid his keycard into the door and held it open. Steve entered the room and turned back to face Buck as he closed the door. As soon as it clicked shut, Steve was on him, shoving him hard against the door and chasing his body with his own. He pressed against him, hips flush to hips, and let his lips lock into place with pliant lips. It seemed to take Bucky’s brain a moment to catch up, his body moving easily where Steve’s told it to. Steve was about to pull back and ask if this was okay when Bucky finally started to kiss back with equal force and fervor.

Steve moaned in surprise and melted into it. He helped Bucky shrug out of his jacket, dropping it to the floor before starting to loosen his tie. Bucky fought Steve out of his own jacket, tugging Steve’s hands away from the buttons of his own shirt so he could pull them through the sleeves. As soon as Steve’s hands were free again, they were working buttons open and feeling over the firm torso beneath. He pulled a surprised grunt from Buck as he gently twisted a nipple while sucking and pulling at his lower lip held firmly between teeth. Bucky pulled his own shirt off and tossed it aside before doing the same with Steve’s. He left Steve’s tie in place though, hanging loosely around his neck. Buck wrapped the end of the tie around his hand and tugged it to lead Steve to the bed, not even separating his lips from Steve’s long enough to breathe. Steve was starting to get lightheaded, surviving only on the air he could pull through his nose, but he didn’t dare break away.

Buck sat when the backs of his knees hit the edge of the bed. He guided Steve to kneel between his legs as he began to attempt to loosen his own belt singlehandedly, the other still wrapped in Steve’s blue tie. Steve’s fingers worked deftly to pull Bucky’s belt free of the buckle and then work the button open. Steve pressed a firm hand against the crotch of Bucky’s dress pants and dragged it up, feeling the outline of Bucky’s hardening cock, as he made his way up to unzip him. Bucky lifted his hips enough to allow Steve to pull his pants down his thighs to pool around his ankles.

Steve barely took the time to admire Buck’s size as he freed him from his briefs. He gave Buck one stroke, tip to base, before he wrapped his lips around the head of Bucky’s cock and sucked, teasing the underside with his tongue.

Bucky groaned and let his head tilt back, eyes closed. Steve admired him best he could from his knees, gazing up through long lashes. He’d barely gotten his mouth on this man and he was already drunk on him. If sucking his tip had him looking this gorgeous, Steve couldn’t wait to have him vibrating apart beneath him.

Steve let his mouth fall open so he could slide his lips all the way down Bucky’s length. He was rewarded by a huff of breath and a hand working into his hair. Steve pulled back up his length, dragging his tongue along him, sucking gently at his tip, before swallowing him back down. He pressed the pad of his thumb to Bucky’s hole, circling gently as he repeated his path up and down Buck’s dick achingly slow.

“Aw, fuck,” Bucky moaned as Steve’s thumb breached him. Steve only pushed in to the first knuckle, massaging along the inside of his rim in slow circles. Bucky pulled tight on Steve’s tie at the same time as he pressed down on the back of his head, forcing Steve to swallow him down. He bucked his hips, fucking into the back of Steve’s throat and rocking down on his thumb at the same time.

Steve moaned around him. He loved being used like this but he was running out of air. Just as he was about to tap out, Bucky pulled him off, dragging him by his tie to bring their lips together. Bucky hoisted Steve on to the bed, rid himself of his pants, and straddled him. He fumbled with Steve’s belt and the top of his dresspants as he crushed his mouth to Steve’s. He wasted no time in pulling Steve’s pants and boxers off in one clean motion. Steve watched with wide eyes and bated breath as Bucky admired his cock. It was hard and leaking and curved back to bob against his stomach, leaving spots of precome behind. He expected Bucky to lick it, base to tip, but instead Buck pressed his palms into the backs of Steve’s thighs, right below his knees, and pushed his legs towards his chest and licked the entire length of Steve’s crack.

“ _Fuck,”_ Steve breathed the word. It was followed by a high-pitched whine as he let the weight of his body fall heavy into the bed. Bucky’s tongue circled his entrance, fluttering in response. Steve took a deep breath and released it as slowly as he could manage, urging his body to relax for Buck. Bucky ran the flat of his tongue across him, followed by little kitten licks that dipped into Steve, deeper and deeper as he relaxed into the sensation. 

Bucky pulled back. It made Steve raise his head to see what the reason for the pause was.

“You make the fucking _prettiest_ noises,” Bucky grinned at him.

Steve hadn’t even _realized_ he’d been making any sounds at all. He blushed, a full-body affair that started at his cheeks and made its way all the way down his chest. Even the tip of his cock seemed to get redder.

Bucky dove back in, tongue lapping, massaging, and pressing. Steve watched him for a moment, the sight of Bucky’s face pushed into his firm ass going straight to his dick. When Bucky started to press a finger to Steve’s rim, Steve let his head fall back. He accepted the finger easily, and Buck was twisting and pulling and pressing a second one in before he even reached for a packet of lube.

Steve was an incoherent, writhing mess beneath him. Bucky’s fingers pressed and twisted and grazed past his sweet spot, and every pass sent a jolt of electricity through him. By the time Bucky was working three fingers in him easily, Steve’s cock was leaking steadily and he was barely forming thoughts, let alone words. He gathered enough of his thoughts to throw a _please fuck me,_ into his steady stream of moans interspersed with combined expletives.

Bucky pulled back long enough to slide a condom down his length, and then crawled along Steve, pressing kisses into his skin every few inches until his mouth found Steve’s. Without breaking the kiss, Bucky lined himself up and pressed gently against Steve until he accepted him easily, inch by inch. Bucky slid in smoothly until he was fully encompassed by Steve’s heat tight around him. Bucky’s tongue found Steve’s, and he pulled small stuttered moans from Steve as he rocked into him gently. When Steve started to rock his hips back, urging Bucky in deeper, Bucky finally started to really move, fucking into him, shallowly at first, and then deeper and harder.

He broke the kiss to suck small bruises into Steve’s neck as he pounded him into the mattress. Steve arched his back beneath him, making more of the noises Bucky seemed to love as his breath hitched around moans.

Steve tossed his head from side to side, “Fuck, Buck. Fuck, I want to ride you. Please, please let me ride you.”

“Well if you’re gonna ask so nicely,” Bucky pulled out of Steve who shot him a quick glare as if he hadn’t been expecting the sudden loss, and sat down next to Steve who was clamboring to all fours. Bucky leaned back against the head of the bed as Steve straddled him and lowered himself onto Buck’s cock inch by inch. It punched the air right out of Steve, and he took a moment once he was seated in Bucky’s lap to catch his breath.

Bucky’s eyes raked over him, drinking him in; his hands wandering his body, scratching here, pinching gently there. Steve watched him, hands exploring Bucky’s body in turn. Bucky walked his fingers up Steve’s abdomen to the end of his tie, still hanging loosely around his neck, and used it to pull Steve into a kiss. It started slow and languid, and as Bucky’s tongue found Steve’s, Steve pushed into Bucky’s mouth with more and more desperation until the kiss was a heated frenzy of lips and teeth and tongues. Steve rocked his hips in slow circles that sped up when the friction wasn’t enough until he was riding Bucky’s full length, rising up off him and falling back down along him with the loud smack of skin slapping skin.

Bucky leaned back against the bed, fingers interlaced behind his head so he wasn’t tempted to touch; just enjoy the show. Every time Steve slammed back down his dick, Bucky let out a strangled moan. It was nothing compared to the sounds Steve was making. Little _unh-unh-unh-unhs_ in time with his movements and breathing. Every move Steve made seemed to punch the air out of his lungs. He only appeared to have control over the movement of his hips; his head lolled to the side, his eyes rolled back in his head, his cock twitched and bobbed and drooled. 

Steve’s motions started to slow and laze, but the noises he made got more desperate. He tried desperately to recover his pace, but his legs were shaking so badly with fatigue. Bucky grabbed his hips and helped raise and lower him at a fervent pace. Steve’s eyes, widened with surprise, locked to his.

Bucky bucked his hips up into Steve as he slammed back down into him. Every movement of Buck’s hips had Steve’s pleasure swirling and building in the pit of his stomach until he was engulfed by it. 

Steve’s mouth fell open and a litany of curses fell forth; an endless chant of _fuckfuckfuckfuck fuck fuck   fuck   fuck,_ until his lips were mouthing the word but no sound was coming out.

Steve’s body went rigid in Bucky’s hands. Bucky braced his heels into the mattress and fucked hard and fast into Steve as Steve cried out, his dick spurting its load hot across his own chest and stomach. Bucky pulled Steve to him, smearing Steve’s come across his abdomen, teeth crashing together as Bucky followed Steve over the edge with a stuttered groan.

As Bucky came down from the high of his climax, Steve was still kissing him, slow and heavy. Bucky returned the kiss before pulling back and letting his eyes take in the sweaty disheveled mess that was Steve Rogers.

*

Steve was half-asleep before Buck could even roll him onto his back. Bucky brought a warm facecloth back from the washroom to wipe him down. Steve’s lips quirked into a lopsided smile as Bucky cleaned him up. By the time Bucky came back from a quick rinse off in the shower, Steve’s breathing was slow and steady. Sleep had taken a strong enough hold of him that he didn’t even stir when Bucky slid into bed next to him.

Bucky took another look at the tall blond sprawled out next to him and smiled to himself. It wasn’t unusual for him to find himself in bed with a stranger, but they were rarely as pretty as this one. He rolled over and joined Steve in slumber.


	4. Chapter 4

When Steve woke up in the morning, it took him a moment to figure out where he was; to remember who he was with.He turned over to find the other side of the bed empty.He could hear the shower running.He rolled out of bed, pulled on his boxers, and padded across the hotel room to knock on the bathroom door.

He opened it a crack so he could call in, “Mind if I join you?”

He could hear Bucky laugh, “Be my guest.”

He dropped his boxers on the floor before sliding back the large glass door to join Bucky under the stream of hot water.

“Hey there,” Steve smiled, pulling Bucky into a lazy kiss.

They showered without much chitchat and with minimally wandering hands.Once Bucky was finished rinsing the soap from his body he gave Steve another peck and then exited, wrapping himself in a towel before leaving to get dressed.

Steve took his time washing his hair, massaging his scalp in slow circles before rinsing the suds free.He’d had an amazing time with Bucky.He was going to have to ask Sam why he hadn’t thought to introduce them earlier.God knows Steve had gone on a date with every other one of Sam’s friends he’d thought worthy.Once Steve had gotten over the awkwardness of behaving familiarly with someone he’d only known for five minutes the conversations with Bucky had flown effortlessly, and by the end of the evening it had felt like they were old friends.

Bucky had this easy charisma to him.He was quick on his feet, witty and suave, but without coming across as sleazy or disingenuous.Plus he was handsome as hell; all dark hair, steel-grey eyes, chiseled jaw and cheekbones.And fuck could he fuck.Steve was going to be getting off to the thought of Bucky’s fingers digging into his hips, helping him ride the length of Bucky’s full cock as he helped him over the edge for a long while.

When Steve had showed up at the wedding, he’d expected to go to bed pitying himself for losing the love of his life.Steve had still dreamed of Peggy, but he’d dreamed of happily passing her off to Ange.Of finding other dance partners; one of which had grey eyes that lit up with warmth when he smiled.

When Steve emerged from the washroom, towel slung low round his hips, Bucky was fully dressed, scrubbing his long hair dry with his towel.

“So,” Steve started as he pulled on his clothes from the previous night, “When can I see you again?”

“Well,” Bucky was inspecting himself in the mirror, running his fingers through his hair until it lay the way he wanted it to.“My schedule is full until next month, but I might have some time in three weeks.I should let you know, I require half the payment when booking, and the other half 24 hours beforehand.If the money doesn’t arrive, your timeslot is given to a client on a flexible schedule.”

Steve didn’t understand.

“Oh, and don’t worry about a tip this time.This one’s on Sam.”

Steve _seriously_ did not understand.

He could feel a hot wave of anxiety and confusion wash over him.It started in his chest and boiled over to flood his stomach.The heat rushed into his face and he was sure his cheeks were red and he could hear his pulse beating in his ears.Steve took a deep breath and willed the feeling to pass.

 _Payment?Tip?_ Steve could barely formulate full thoughts, let alone string together a sentence that gave voice to all the questions he had.

“I’ve gotta run.I’m meeting another client across town in an hour.Here, I’ll leave you my card,” Bucky pressed a business card into Steve’s hand and a kiss to his cheek.“It was a pleasure meeting you, Steve.”

And then he was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys love this fic as much as I've loved writing it. It feels like I've bared too much of myself here, but that's writing for you.


	5. Chapter 5

Steve didn’t know how long he stood there for, feeling dumbfounded, before he finally realized he couldn’t just stay hanging out in this hotel room.He shoved the card Bucky had given him into his pocket, made sure he had all his stuff, and made his way out to the street.He hailed a cab, hopped in the back, and gave the driver his address.

It wasn’t until the cab had pulled on to his street that Steve remembered to even read the card.He retrieved it from his pocket and inspected it.

BUCKY  
_Escort and Companion Services  
_ 929-528-2592

_Escort and Companion Services._

“Sir, we’re here. _Sir?_ ”

Steve looked up, stunned, to see his apartment building across the street.

“Thank you,” he handed the driver far more than would cover his fare and clambered out of the cab, not waiting for his change, still staring at the card in his hand.

He was going to kill Sam.

*

Steve grabbed himself a coffee and croissant from the bakery below his building before heading in to his place.Every few moments he’d pull Bucky’s card from his pocket and look it over again before stuffing it back into his pants.Once he got into his apartment, he deserted his breakfast on the counter and had another quick shower, trying to rinse away his confusion and embarrassment with scalding hot water.

It’s not that he was ashamed that he’d slept with an escort.How Bucky made a living was up to him, and if he enjoyed what he did then all the power to him.Getting _paid_ to get laid didn’t seem a bad gig at all.No, the thing that had Steve’s cheeks burning and his stomach threatening to retch was that Sam was out of free dates for him.When Sam had promised to find him a date for Peggy’s wedding, he’d exhausted his list of willing participants and had to move on to paid company.

And the part that had Steve’s eyes stinging with the threat of tears was that he had thought he had had an actual, genuine connection with Bucky.But that was his job.Bucky made a living making people believe he enjoyed their company enough to bring them back to his hotel room and fuck their brains out.It was probably that feeling of connection that built Bucky a steady client-base that he could rely on for rent and fancy suits.Steve stopped fighting back the tears and let them spill on his face, mixing with the hot stream of water from the showerhead.He did his best, but failed miserably to stop his brain from flicking through snapshots of the previous night: the way Bucky had looked at him over the course of the evening; how he’d interlaced their fingers and squeezed his hand reassuringly while Peggy recited her vows; how his body had felt pressed against his on the dance floor; how it had left him wanting more and how he had had to tear himself away from Bucky just to give Peggy the dance he’d promised her; how Bucky’s body had felt pressed against his in bed, nothing but sweat and hot breaths between them; how every single time Steve had caught his eye, caught him looking his way, he had thought he’d finally met someone special. _His_ someone special.

But making people feel special, that was _Bucky’s job_.

*

Steve was swallowing a mouthful of lukewarm, bitter black coffee when his phone rang.He checked who it was.

Sam.

He put his phone back on the table with every intention to screen his call.He didn’t want to talk to Sam.

Actually, he wanted to yell at Sam.

He accepted the call as he took another sip of his coffee.

“…Steve?You there?”

Steve swallowed the bitter mouthful.“Yeah, I’m here.”

“You have a good time with Bucky last night, man?You two were long gone when I headed home.”

“Public Relations is a pretty fancy euphemism for _Escort_ ,” Steve spat out the word.

There was silence on Sam’s end.

“Why didn’t you just _tell me_ no one wanted to be my fucking date, Sam?I’m a big boy.I could have taken that news and gone alone.You didn’t have to _buy me a date_.”

“Woah, there.I didn’t buy you a date,” the explanation poured out of Sam quickly, as if he were expecting Steve to hang up on him at any second.“I play poker with Bucky and he owed me a couple grand.I don’t care about the money; I just like playing.I told him I had a friend he might get along with who needed a date to a wedding, and that if he went, I’d forgive him the debt.I _honestly_ thought you and Bucky would hit it off.And I thought he would have told you what he did for a living.It’s not like you to not ask a million questions.I thought you’d get it out of him in five minutes flat.”

“Well I didn’t,” Steve pouted.“And I really liked him, and I can’t tell how much of that was real and how much of it was him being good at _Public Relations_.”

“Fuck, Steve, I’m sorry.”Sam sounded it.“Do you want me to talk to him?”

“What are we, in high school?No, I don’t want you to fucking talk to him for me.”Steve took another sip of coffee, swishing the bitter liquid around his mouth before drinking it down.“He left me his number.”

“Alright, well, let me know if there’s anything I can do?”

“Yeah, there’s something you can do,” Steve spat.“Next time you want to set me up with an escort, _don’t._ ”

Sam sighed.“Noted.”


	6. Chapter 6

It took Steve four days of pulling his phone out, starting a text to Bucky, and shoving his phone back in his pocket before he finally decided that he had had such an amazing time with Bucky and he wanted to experience that again and if Bucky’s company was going to cost him, so be it.

Sent 8:35pm  
_Hi Bucky, it’s Steve. I’d love to grab dinner sometime._

Steve’s phone rang a few minutes later.  Steve recognized Bucky’s number.

“Hello?”

“Hey Steve, it’s Bucky.” There was a smile in the voice on the other line. “I’m glad to have heard from you.”

Steve couldn’t help the blush that crept up his neck. His first instinct was to analyze whether those words were true or not. He forced that down.

“Sorry it took me so long. I’ve been busy.”

Bucky laughed. “Busy deciding if you’re comfortable being the kind of person who pays for escorts, right?”

The question was rhetorical, but it still made Steve flounder for words.

“Look,” Bucky continued, “I thought Sam told you I was an escort. I didn’t bring it up because I don’t talk about work much, especially when I’m working.”

Steve still couldn’t find his tongue.

“I had a great time, Steve. And if you’re worried about being found out as the kind of person who hires escorts, first, there’s nothing wrong with hiring escorts, and second, I’m very discrete. I never talk about my clients or give out their names or any information about them. Your privacy is guaranteed.”

Steve swallowed hard. He couldn’t believe himself. “What are your rates?”

“A thousand for the first hour, seven hundred for every hour following. Five thousand for an overnight stay. Longer time periods are negotiable.”

Steve hadn’t taken enough time to decide how much he was willing to pay to see Bucky again. But with Bucky’s voice in his ear, deep and smooth, he decided the price didn’t really matter. He’d pay what he had to.

“Okay.”

“Great. I’ll text you a link to my website. There’s a booking calendar there and an e-mail address you can send your deposit to. You can also sign up to be notified when there’s been a cancellation. Clients who fill a dropped booking get 40% off. I’ve actually had someone bail tomorrow night. Three-hour block starting at 6pm. You want it?”

Steve’s mouth was dry. He swallowed hard. “I’ll take it.”

“Great. I’ll send you the e-mail. Transfer $1,800 and it’s yours. Text me where you want to meet.”

“Okay,” was all Steve managed.

“I look forward to seeing you, Steve,” and then the line went dead.

Steve’s phone trilled a moment later.

Received 8:42pm  
_For future bookings: buckyatyourservice.com_

_$1,800 to buckyou@gmail.com. Password buckyourbrainsout. See you tomorrow ;)_

Steve couldn’t quite believe he was doing this. He set up the e-mail transfer from his account. His pulse quickened as he confirmed the transfer. A few moments later he got a confirmation e-mail from buckyou@gmail.com saying that his timeslot had been booked. It contained the fine print about any amounts being paid being non-refundable and that cancellations required 24-hours notice. Tip donations could be made in cash in a sealed envelope at the end of a date or e-mail transferred after the fact with the password _thanksforthebuck._

Sent 8:53pm  
_You like Italian? Ponte Vecchio work for you?_

Received 8:55pm   
_Ponte Vecchio is great. See you at 6_


	7. Chapter 7

Steve was early by habit, but when he was nervous he was _early._

And Steve was _nervous_.

He’d been at Ponte Vecchio since 5:15. He sat at the table for two worrying his napkin and sipping his water. The restaurant seemed to be even fancier than Steve had remembered, with its white chairs and white tablecloths and white cloth napkins. He was somewhat underdressed and he felt out of place. Why had he picked this place instead of the bar at the corner of his street? He was already paying the guy to hang out with him. He didn’t exactly need to woo him with a fancy meal.

Steve was about to try calling Bucky to change locations when he walked in. Steve looked at his phone. 5:57pm. Yeah, that might have been leaving it a little late to switch venues.

A grin spread across Bucky’s face when he spotted him. It soothed Steve’s nerves and simultaneously gave life to a fresh set of butterflies.

Steve stood to shake his hand as he arrived at the table. Bucky took his hand, grazing his thumb across the back of Steve’s hand and kissed his cheek.  “Hiya, Steve. Have you been waiting long?”

“No,” Steve said. It wasn't a lie, not really; not in the grand scheme of things.

Bucky seated himself, folded his hands on the table and leaned forward. “How’s your week been?”

Steve shrank under Bucky’s gaze. He opened the menu and started browsing without actually reading any of the items. “Uh, it was good. Should we order?” He kept looking at the door and watching men in ties walk in with women in cocktail dresses on their arms. He absentmindedly tugged at the collar of his shirt. He should have put a tie on before he left.

Bucky never took his eyes off of Steve. “You okay?”

Steve was very interested in the daily soup. He looked up to meet Bucky’s eyes, going for nonchalant and failing. “Yeah, I’m fine.” His voice cracked when he spoke again. “Why?”

“You seem… uncomfortable,” Bucky observed.

That was an understatement.

Bucky’s hand movements caught Steve’s eye and he looked up to see he was loosening and removing his tie, pulling it overhead, careful to not jostle his bun.

“Any better?”

Steve gave him a stiff smile.

Bucky looked around. “Look, you don’t need to try to impress me. These three hours are about you. Is this where you want to be?”

Steve shook his head.

“Alright, so where do you want to go? What do you want to do?”

Steve quirked his head to the side as he considered whether he should actually give voice to how he’d like to be spending his evening with Bucky.

“C’mon, spit it out,” Bucky coaxed.

“Go back to my place and order takeout?” Steve let the words tumble out of his mouth and then snapped his mouth shut, waiting to see if his request was okay.

Bucky smiled. “That sounds great. Let’s go.”

“Okay.”

Steve left $10 on the table for their trouble of keeping him for an hour, and followed Bucky out the door.

“Lead the way,” Bucky exclaimed as he looped his arm through Steve’s.

It was a short walk back to Steve’s place and the combination of fresh air, and warm body heat coming from Bucky calmed Steve’s nerves. Everywhere Bucky touched seemed to relax under his contact: where his arm touched Steve’s; where his fingertips grazed his bicep when Bucky responded to something funny Steve had said; where his hip hit Steve’s when he teased him lightly. Anywhere he touched Steve, Steve’s muscles just went _oh, okay_ and surrendered entirely. By the time Steve was unlocking his front door, Bucky’s hand resting on the small of his back, Steve felt like he was drunk on him. He wasn’t entirely sure how he was still standing.

He let Bucky into his place. It wasn’t much, but it was home. It was a one bedroom, but it was set up like a studio apartment: bedroom in lieu of a living room a stone’s throw from the open-concept kitchen. He used the only enclosed room in the place for his art. It was always a mess, with a number of partially completed canvases leaning against the wall, an easel in the centre of the room, plastic protecting the floor, and paints and brushes stored on every surface. He liked to be able to keep his mess contained. Occasionally his art would bleed out into the rest of his living space, but he did his best to leave himself a tidy area for entertaining.

He watched Bucky take the small space in. If he disapproved, he didn’t let it show.

“I’d offer you a tour, but this is kinda it,” Steve rubbed the back of his neck. “I can offer you a drink though. Beer? Wine?”

“A beer would be great, thanks.”

Steve retrieved two bottles from the fridge, popped the cap off each and handed one to Bucky. He offered his up in a silent _cheers_ and Steve clinked it against his before they took a synchronized sip.

“What do you want to eat?” Steve asked as he pulled out a selection of takeout menus from one of his kitchen drawers.

“I’m not picky,” Bucky said as he took another swig of beer. “Entirely up to you.”

Steve gave a big sigh. “I’m uncomfortable with this as it is. I don’t want to feel like you have no say in what we’re doing.” He sorted through the menus until he pulled out two of his favorites. “Thai or Chinese?”

“I really don’t mind, it’s up to-”

“Do you want to be here?” Steve looked up from the menus. He was shocked his voice was holding steady and wasn’t betraying him. He held Bucky’s gaze, unblinking. “I know you don’t talk about your work or other clients, and that’s fine. But I need to know that you do this line of work because you want to, not because you have to.”

Bucky’s eyes took on a cold-steely note Steve hadn’t seen in them before. His voice wasn’t quite as cold when he spoke, but it nearly matched. “I love my work. I don’t do anything I don’t want to do. If I tell you I don’t care what we eat, I mean it.”

Steve sighed. He wasn’t sure if he believed him, but what choice did he have. “Okay, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend-”

“Thai,” Bucky cut him off. The warmth was back in his eyes. He took another swig of beer. “Pad thai or a curry with rice. As spicy or mild as you like.”

Steve smiled. He made the call and prepaid over the phone. He watched Bucky wander around his living space as he did. Bucky opened the door to his studio while he was in the middle of giving his address, so he couldn’t ask him not to go in there. When he hung up he made his way across the apartment.

“I’d really prefer you weren’t in here,” Steve started.

He took Bucky in. His eyes were wide and he looked mesmerized by the pieces that lay strewn around the room. He looked back to where Steve was standing.  “You painted these?” Awe crept into Bucky’s voice. He started sifting through a stack of canvases leaning against one of the walls, taking in each painting for a few seconds before inspecting the next one.

“I, uh,” Steve rubbed the back of his neck again. He could feel his blush working its way up his neck to his cheeks. “Yeah. Oh, please don’t go through that pile.”

Bucky was going through the reject pile. The paintings Steve meant to paint over and re-use the spoiled canvases as a texture experiment or a colour-mixing tablet.

“Why not? These are incredible.” Bucky pulled out a piece Steve particularly disliked. A white star in the middle that spiraled into blue, red, and white rings. The boundaries between the coloured layers blurred more and more as the rings smeared into each other, and the colours had gotten muddy and grey when he’d wanted them to be vibrant.

Steve’s blush was hot in his cheeks.

“I assumed you were an artist when Sam said you worked at a gallery. I didn’t expect you to be this _good_ though.” Bucky inspected the painting more closely. “You haven’t even signed this one.”

“That’s because it’s in the garbage pile,” Steve deadpanned. He’d do anything to get Bucky out of this room right now. He didn’t show his work to many people. He certainly didn’t show the work he hated and had no intention of completing to anyone.

“You can’t be serious,” Bucky’s eyes finally met his. He had to see that Steve was. Bucky looked like he’d suddenly realized he’d crossed a line. He put the piece back down at the front of the pile. “I’m sorry.” He exited the room, squeezing past Steve in the doorframe. “Do you want me to go? I can send you a refund. I didn’t mean to be invasive.”

Steve was so confused. Bucky pulled his jacket on. Then he yanked one of his shoes back on and started working on the other one.

“What? No, I-” Steve crossed the room. He couldn’t find the words to say _it’s not okay that you were going through my paintings but I don’t want you to leave_.

Instead he pulled the shoe Bucky was wrestling onto his foot out of his hands and tossed it a few feet behind him.

Bucky looked at him, stunned. Steve leaned in and crushed their mouths together. He tugged at a sleeve of his jacket, freeing him an arm at a time, letting the black leather fall to the floor. Steve led Bucky to one of his dining room chairs and pushed him to sit in it. He straddled Bucky’s lap, resting his forearms on Bucky’s shoulders as he kissed him, grinding slow circles against his groin.

Bucky’s kissing back started out reserved. An un-asked question caught on his tongue. Loose, pliant lips moved with Steve’s but offered no direction of their own. It wasn’t until Steve was grinding down hard against the rigid outline of him that he released the smallest moan and started kissing back with reckless abandon, licking into Steve’s mouth, holding his hips down and grinding up into him.

Steve broke the kiss. He placed sloppy kisses beneath Buck’s ear. “Condom?” he whispered.

Bucky nodded, “Back pocket.”

Steve stood up so Bucky could get to it. As Bucky fished it and a packet of lube out, Steve rid himself of his pants and boxers, kicking his socks off with them. He undid the top of Bucky’s pants while Bucky stroked him, slow and firm. He pulled Bucky free, admiring the way his cock sprang back to rest against his belly. He rolled the condom down him, tip to base, and coated him with lube before straddling him.

Bucky’s eyes went wide. “Do you want me to stretch you open first?”

Steve gave the tiniest shake of his head. “Don’t. I can do this.” He took a deep breath, urging himself to relax, as he teased himself with the head of Bucky’s cock. He exhaled slowly and allowed Bucky to breach him. Another deep breath gave him another inch. Steve worked himself there for a moment, eyes clenched tight, breathing slow and smooth, teasing Bucky’s tip while he watched him with wide eyes, fingertips squeezing bruises into Steve’s hips with the effort it took to resist the urge to press him down further.

Steve allowed himself to fall another inch. And then another. And then another. Until he was seated fully in Bucky’s lap.

“Fuuuck,” Bucky whispered. Steve had started grinding down onto him. The sweet mewling noises Steve was making were nearly drowned out by the groans he was pulling from Bucky. Bucky’s hands were wrapped in the hem of Steve’s shirt, as if pulling at the fabric would allow him to push deeper into Steve.

Steve leaned down to mute Bucky with a kiss, swallowing the noises he was responsible for as he started to rise and fall around him. Bucky’s fingertips dug into Steve’s hips as he reached his breaking point. He wrapped his hands around Steve so they supported his hips, fingertips sinking into the globes of his ass, so he could control the pace Steve was riding him at. He was pulling Steve down on to him faster and faster, harder and harder, when there was a knock at the door.

Steve had totally forgotten they’d ordered food.

“Unh-unh-unh- J-Just unh- Leave ah- It!” Steve called between moans.

Steve glanced down at Bucky to see he looked entirely mesmerized. Steve could feel a blush creeping up his neck in response to the way Bucky was looking at him like he was his whole world. Without breaking the eye contact, Bucky reached between them to wrap his hand around Steve’s cock. The sudden friction was maddening. Steve hadn’t even known he’d needed it until Bucky was stroking him firm and steady as he thrust up into him. Steve’s eyes rolled back as his orgasm took root and ripped through him in one go. As he came across Bucky’s shirt, Steve’s jaw dropped open in quiet surprise. When he finally opened his eyes, Bucky appeared equally surprised.

“Fuck that was hot,” Bucky breathed.

Steve panted lightly, catching his breath.

“Can I fuck you over the table?” Bucky asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“You can fuck me however you want me,” Steve was still floating in the afterglow, forcing his breathing to slow. He pulled off of Bucky and lay his torso across his table, cheek against the wood, legs spread open; waiting.

Bucky thread the fingers of his left hand into Steve’s hair and used his right to line himself up with Steve. He pressed himself in just enough to enter Steve before wrapping his free hand around Steve’s hip to steady himself as he slammed into him. Bucky set a steady pace that had Steve’s cock twitching with renewed interest. Every thrust had Bucky grazing past Steve’s sweet spot and he could feel his desire pooling and building again; though drastically more gradually this time.

Steve had spent several moments balanced on the edge, willing himself to topple over when Bucky pulled his hair hard enough to crane his neck back with one hand, and wrapped the other around his exposed neck. The pressure of the hand on his throat was firm and tight, and Bucky was leaning on his elbows, fucking Steve hard and fast into the table.

It wasn’t until Bucky groaned out, “Fuck, you take me so good,” and squeezed the hand on his throat that Steve finally felt his release wash over him a second time.

Bucky wasn’t far behind, breath hitching and hips faltering as he moaned into Steve’s shoulder.

“Fuck, Steve,” Bucky muttered.

Steve looked back at him from his vantage point, cheek pressed back to the table, and couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him at the sight of Bucky: long hair half released from his bun stuck to his sweaty forehead, drying come across his button-up, come drooling out of the condom to meet the slacks that were all but zipped and buttoned, and finally one dress shoe and one socked foot.

“God, how are you still so beautiful even when you’re a mess?” Steve laughed.

Bucky looked down at himself and chuckled. “Yeah, I should probably clean myself up before we eat, eh? Can I use your shower? …Got a spare shirt I can borrow?”

Steve sighed, “Yeah,” and pushed himself off the table. He pulled his boxers back on before making his way across his apartment to pull out a grey cotton tee and a clean towel for Bucky. “It’s the one with the toilet in it,” he pointed in the direction of the washroom.

Bucky gave an over-dramatic salute and disappeared into the washroom. Steve bustled around getting re-dressed when he heard the shower start up. He wiped down the table and grabbed some dishes and retrieved the bag of takeout from the door. He was thankful for the option of pre-paying as he pulled the containers of yellow curry and jasmine rice from the bag. He threw the curry into the microwave for a moment, followed by the rice. Bucky emerged from the washroom, pulling Steve’s shirt over his head, as Steve pulled the rice from the microwave.

“Smells good. I’m famished.”

Steve handed Bucky a bowl of rice covered in vegetable curry, and a fork. He thanked him before settling into the chair Steve had fucked him on earlier, one leg under him, one knee pulled to his chest, and dug into his food.

Steve joined him at the table, and the two of them ate in comfortable silence for a while. As Bucky scraped the bottom of his dish clean, Steve watched him. His wet hair was tucked loosely behind his ears and fell nearly to his shoulders. Steve’s dark grey tee was a little baggy on him, not so much that he couldn’t still appreciate the movement of his muscles beneath it, and the colour of it seemed to accentuate just how steely Bucky’s eyes were. Steve knew he was big and sturdy, but the way he was tucked into the chair made him appear small, and Steve could feel the tiniest tug at his heart as he took him in. He did his best to swallow the feeling.

He wanted to ask Bucky how he ended up in this line of business, but he knew he wouldn’t want to talk about it. He did his best to swallow that feeling too.

As Steve cleared the dishes, he did his best to aim for non-chalant. “So you’ve probably gotta head off to another client soon, eh?”

Bucky cocked an eyebrow, but checked the time on his phone. “You’ve got another half hour. How do you want to spend it?”

Steve shrugged. What he really wanted was to tuck Bucky into bed and spend the rest of the night cuddling and kissing and chatting into the wee-hours. But that wasn’t in the cards.

Then he had another idea. “Can I draw you?”

“Uh,” Bucky swept a hand through his hair as he considered. “Sure, I guess,” he started to uncoil himself from the chair.

“No, no, stay just like that,” Steve leapt up to grab his sketchbook from the other room.

Bucky looked unsure of himself as he tucked his knee back under his chin the way he’d had it before.

Steve sat on the floor in front of him. He liked the perspective of Bucky being huge over him while still being folded up small. He outlined Bucky in broad strokes before starting on the smaller details. Steve captured Bucky’s uncertain smile, and the angle of his arm as he pushed his hair back; little things that added to how shy and tiny Bucky appeared even though he was still an impressively-sized man.

The picture was just starting to pull together as being recognizably Bucky when he nervously tucked a loose strand of hair behind his ear and quietly asked, “Actually, could we just cuddle or something for the remaining time?”

When Steve looked up again, he could see a blush starting along Bucky’s cheeks that reached the tips of his ears.

“Yeah, of course.” Steve closed his sketchbook as Bucky got up from the chair to move to Steve’s bed.

Steve joined him, leaning into Bucky as he wrapped his arm around Steve’s shoulder. Bucky’s other hand played with his hair, slow circles that felt inexplicably good.

“You okay? You were being a great model.”

Steve assumed from the brief silence that Bucky was blushing again. “I, uh… Nobody’s ever looked at me like that. Inspected me like that. I just… it was uncomfortable.”

Steve knew what he meant. He could be a little intense when he studied his subject; looking through rather than at, and he knew from his own experiences modeling for art classes that it could leave you feeling a little vulnerable.

“Sorry,” Steve apologized.

Bucky sighed, “It’s okay.” He continued to stroke Steve’s hair. “I’ve just never had a client ask to draw me before. This, I’m used to. Sex, I’m used to. Listening to someone complain about their spouse, I’m used to. I’m just not used to being measured like that.”

Steve enjoyed Bucky’s attention for a few more moments in silence. When he gauged that it had to be pretty close to 9 o’clock he mumbled sleepily, “Alright, you should probably get going.” He desperately didn’t want the evening to end, but he didn’t think he could bear to have Bucky sound like he wanted to leave. It was easier to kick him out.

Bucky checked the time again as Steve sat up, stretching.

“Yeah, it’s that time.” He pressed a kiss to Steve’s temple. “It was good to see you again, Steve. I had fun.”

“Me too, Buck.”

Steve watched him as he pulled his shoes on, collected his soiled shirt, and made sure he had his wallet and keys. He started to make like he was going to change back into his come-stained shirt. Steve stopped him as he started to pull at the neck of the tee.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll grab it from you next time.”

“Oh, so there’s going to be a next time, eh?” Bucky grinned.

Steve smiled. “I’d like there to be.”

“Let me know when, and I’ll be there.”

Bucky winked and then he was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update Oct 2nd, 2016:  
> I changed a line post-publication. I changed _"No," Steve lied._ to _“No,” Steve said. It wasn't a lie, not really; not in the grand scheme of things._
> 
>  _Steve lied_ is the most ooc I've ever written Steve and it was really bugging me. So I fixed it.
> 
> That's all.
> 
> GG out <3


	8. Chapter 8

Steve hadn’t noticed it while it was happening, but they’d fallen into a routine.

Bucky came over to Steve’s place for three hours alternate Tuesday evenings, and then stayed over every other Saturday night. Steve had set up an automatic payment for Bucky from his account so he didn’t have to constantly think about the fact that he was paying him for his time, but it also meant that Steve had had the freedom to _forget_ he was paying Bucky for his time. He’d been seeing Bucky for a month and a half when Steve got a call from his landlord.

“My cheque bounced?” Steve was sure there’d been a mistake. He’d been paid two days ago, and besides, his account had overdraft protection to avoid scenarios just like this one.

His landlord started to repeat for him the fact that she needed rent from him this week or she’d have to write up an official notice informing him his rent was late and due within five days to avoid an eviction notice. Steve’s mouth went dry. He nodded, and then realized she couldn’t see him nodding.

“Of course. No, I understand. I’m so sorry. I’ll get this sorted out as soon as I can.”

Steve was logging into his account as he was hanging up the phone. He pressed his forehead to his knees when he saw the balance. He’d maxed out the overdraft limit without realizing he was even in the red. His last paycheque had been applied to his credit card, thank God, but the remnants hadn’t been enough to cover rent.

He closed his eyes as they started to sting, tears threatening to well up, and urged his breathing to slow. He could feel a panic attack building in his chest and he focused all his energy on keeping it from taking hold and pulling short, wracking breaths from him.

Steve pulled out his phone and texted Bucky. If there was any way Bucky would give him a refund for his booking the following Saturday, he’d have enough to pay Mrs. Norris the rent he owed. He could figure the rest of his finances out from there.

 

Sent 6:06pm  
_Hey Bucky, I know you don’t usually do refunds, but any chance I could get my deposit back for next Saturday? I forgot a friend’s birthday was happening that night.   Thanks again for last night_

 

When he didn’t hear back from him right away, Steve started to panic. He shouldn’t have even asked. As much as it was starting to feel like Bucky was his boyfriend in everything but name, he wasn’t. He was giving Steve the returning client rates: $5,000 flat rate for a date night and an overnight stay, $2,000 for a 3-hour evening. But his policy was still no refunds. It was bad for business. And as much as their relationship felt personal, it was still a business transaction.

Steve fought the urge to follow up his text with another apologizing for even asking. He couldn’t afford to cancel his request for a refund, he needed to at least wait for a response. He silenced his phone and shoved it under his pillow so he could try to figure out how he could scrape together $1,700 in a day or two without checking his phone every thirty seconds.

Steve had been sitting with Word open for over an hour, staring at the blinking cursor hovering just under the title _Ways to Make Cash_ centred at the top of the page. Anxiety was starting to grab hold of his chest again. There was no way he could ask the gallery for an advance, and there weren’t any extra hours to be picked up. He didn’t have any new pieces to sell, and he hadn’t sold an existing piece recently. Unless he magically had a buyer in the next 24 hours, he couldn’t rely on his art to get him out of this hole.

He went to Craigslist and started looking at available jobs. He started at the very top: _Accounting+Finance_ and worked his way down, just to be sure he didn’t miss a single opportunity that he could grab a quick handful of cash from. He sent out a couple e-mails to people looking for some graphic design work in the _Art/Media/Design_ category. Once he’d exhausted the options there, he took another look at the list. He could probably safely skip _Biotech/Science_. He skimmed the other categories to get a feel for how many more he could go through and started to rank them in feasibility. That’s when the _Services – Therapeutic_ section caught his eye.

Was that where Bucky would have advertised when he was starting out? Bucky’s work was obviously good for quick cash. He opened the link, and sure enough there was a long list of people offering sensual massages, blow jobs, and escort services, interspersed with people requesting hook ups.

Steve tried to decide how much he would charge to blow a guy. He was having a hard time putting a number to it. $50 felt cheap, but charging an hourly rate to suck a guy’s dick felt wrong. $150 was a number he was more comfortable with, but as he scrolled through the listings, clicking here and there to check going rates, that was obviously pretty steep. He’d have to give the world’s best blow job to charge that much. And he’d still have to suck over ten dicks to make rent. That seemed ridiculous.

Still, he was curious if he could pull in any interest at all. The site was flooded with women offering their curvy bodies, but the men offering services to other men were few and far between. There might be a market there.

Steve couldn’t believe he was doing it, but he opened up a new posting. He stared at the blinking cursor there for a while, too. What would he even say about himself?

After staring at the screen for half-an-hour and feeling ridiculous and self-conscious, he decided to just write _anything_ , no matter how much it made him cringe, and see if he got any replies.

 _Fit, bisexual blond available for dates. $500/hour._ Steve had labored over that price for a long time. It was a lot less than Bucky charged, but he was a lot less experienced than Bucky at this. He didn’t know how long Bucky had been in the business, but he thought $500 might be a good starting rate. He’d be willing to negotiate a bit if it was still more than people wanted to pay for him. _Hotels only._ Steve had taken a long time to decide that was what he was comfortable with. Many of the girls advertised that they made house calls as well, but that didn’t seem entirely safe. If he could meet someone in a hotel lobby, he could get at least some kind of read on the guy before he ended up behind closed doors with him. _E-mail Grant,_ there was no way in hell he was using his real name, _at grantmywish@gmail.com if interested._ He had cringed as he set up the Gmail account, but Bucky was the professional, and if he used a whole series of puns on his name, Steve was going to follow his example. _Please include a picture and a short description of how you’d like our date to go._ Steve figured that would root out the serious offers and help him avoid surprises or people who wanted things he straight up wouldn’t do. _I look forward to hearing from you, Grant._

Then Steve spent half-an-hour in the washroom trying to take a decent picture of himself in the bathroom mirror that captured him without making him incredibly recognizable. He didn’t know how many of his friends and co-workers frequented the Craigslist Services page, but he didn’t want any of them to spot him there if they did.

Once he’d achieved a decent shot of himself – bare torso, jeans slung low, unbuttoned at the top, boxers clinging to his hips, face turned so that his jaw and hair were visible, but with a flexing arm running his hand through his hair that blocked most of his eyes and nose, as well as his blush – Steve uploaded it to the draft.

He read it over again, and then posted it. He decided to have a quick shower and a bite to eat before trying to sleep off this nightmare he was in.

The hot water and food helped immensely. Steve was feeling less like things were going to be hopeless when he padded back into his kitchen to put his dishes away. He decided to check his e-mail before calling it a night, just to see if there was any interest at all.

Steve couldn’t believe his eyes. There were over thirty e-mails in his inbox already. One of them was the confirmation that the post had gone live, but the rest of them were from people who had seen his ad.

Steve padded back to the kitchen to get a glass of water and decide what he was going to do. It was a little overwhelming – no, a lot overwhelming – but also a little relieving. He only needed four of them to be serious offers who wanted to see him for an hour to make rent. He could do this.

He went back to his laptop and decided to see what kind of requests he had. He opened the first one.

_Hey bby, luv to cum on ur tits._

No thank you. He deleted it and moved on to the next.

_Nice body. Let me blow you for $100?_

Steve hadn’t realized transactions went in that direction. It wasn’t as much money as he was hoping to make, but Steve starred it before opening the next message.

He sorted through ten more messages that were unappealing or non-committal. As his heart was starting to sink – the $100 reverse-blow job was the best offer so far – Steve opened an e-mail that surprised him.

 

_Grant,_

_I’m in town for business tomorrow night and looking for some company for the evening. I’ll be at the Hilton downtown if you’d like to come by for a drink at 7pm. Distract me from work and let’s see where things go. Things I might want you to do after drinks: warm my cock for me while I watch the news; blow me; masturbate for me._

_I’m a fairly well-known businessman. Discretion is required._

_AP_

There was a photo attachment. Steve opened it to find a faceless photo of a middle-aged man. Very average body, lots of pale red and white hairs covered his chest. Without a face, it was hard to gauge how attractive he was, but he wasn’t repulsive and Steve figured that was the important part.

Steve replied to the e-mail.

_AP,_

_Thanks for your message. I’ll meet you at the bar at 7pm._ He tried to remember what Bucky had said about discretion. _I’m very discrete. Your privacy is always guaranteed._ He was tempted to include that he wanted his payment upfront in cash beforehand, but he didn’t know how many hours AP was hoping to use his services for, and he was worried it would come off as sounding unprofessional. He didn’t want to give away that he was new at this. _See you then, Grant._

Steve sent the e-mail and closed his laptop. He’d go through some more of the messages tomorrow. He was afraid he’d chicken out if he went through too many more of them tonight.

He turned out the lights and climbed into bed. He felt around for his phone so he could set an alarm for the morning. When he opened his phone there was a text from Bucky.

Received 9:24pm  
_Sure, Steve. No problem. Please don’t make a habit of requesting refunds, but I can do it this once. E-mail transfer is on its way. See you the following Tuesday still?_

Steve couldn’t believe his eyes. He checked his personal e-mail account, and sure enough there was a money transfer from Bucky waiting for him. The full amount of his deposit for Saturday night was there. He moved the money into his account and breathed a huge sigh of relief. He could drop a rent cheque off before he left for work tomorrow.

He texted Bucky back.

Sent 1:16am  
_Thank you so much, Buck. Means a lot to me. Don’t worry, this is a one time thing. Yes, we’re still on for our regular Tuesday._

Steve opened his laptop. He could cancel his date with AP now that rent was taken care of.

He opened a new reply.

_Hi AP,_

_I’m afraid something came up and I’m no longer available while you’re in town. I hope you’re able to find someone else to provide you your service._

_All the best,  
_ _Grant_

Steve hovered the cursor over the send button. But what about future dates with Bucky? What about _next_ month’s rent? Even his spread out and discounted dates were burning a hole through his bank account at an unexpected rate. Could he really afford to not go hold AP’s dick in his mouth for a bit?

He deleted the draft, closed the laptop, and went to bed.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for some minor non-con in this chapter.
> 
> Happy Thanksgiving to all my Canadian loves!  
> You get two chapters this week :)

Steve was up early the next morning. He showered and then bustled around his kitchen making breakfast, towel hanging low round his hips. He ate slow and measured, reading the paper, forcing his mind on anything but the date he had tonight. His mind wandered after his first piece of toast and once Steve started trying to mentally put an outfit together that would be appropriate for the gallery and his meeting after, his stomach flipped and he pushed away the rest of his meal, appetite gone entirely.

He started to pull button ups and ties out of his drawers. He finally settled on a pale blue shirt and a dark navy blue tie. Steve tucked his shirt into charcoal dress pants and pulled on the matching suit jacket to check the outfit. He fussed with his hair a bit, adding a little product so it would hopefully hold for the day. He scribbled an apology into a blank card, tucking a fresh cheque into it before stuffing it into an envelope, and remembered to grab a bottle of red on his way out the door. He slid the envelope under his landlord’s door and left the bottle next to her entryway before heading to the gallery.

Once there, Steve left his jacket and tie in the back room and unbuttoned the top of his shirt. The gallery was pretty formal, but they liked to have staff of varying approachability to serve a large range of clients. Gamora was their snooty client agent, always dressed to the nines in tall heels and tight dresses; when someone came in with money to burn, it was Gamora who greeted them. Steve’s role was to make first-time art buyers feel like they belonged in the gallery just as much as those adding to large, million dollar collections.

As he emerged from the back, he saw Gamora was already showing long-time art supporter Wilson Fisk some of their new pieces. Neither of them took any notice of Steve as he circled the gallery, taking in the changes that were made over the weekend, before approaching a young man who was dressed in jeans and a tee shirt, staring up at a large abstract piece.

Steve stood slightly behind the man, to his right, and admired the piece in silence with him; it was one of his own pieces. The canvas started as a deep navy in the top left corner and morphed into a bright, glossy black diagonally across the canvas. Metallic silver slashed across the canvas, the edges of it sharp and jagged, as if it were slicing right into the black. A bright crimson bled up from the bottom of the canvas, thick red tendrils wrapping parts of the silver.

The man eventually spoke. “It’s powerful, isn’t it?”

Steve blushed. “It is.”

They took it in for a few more moments before the man sighed. “Not exactly what I came in looking for though.”

Steve smiled. He wasn’t exactly upset this piece hadn’t sold yet. He was going to miss looking at it when it went. And it did a good job of grabbing people in from off the street. It was visible from the front window, and it would bring all sorts of people in. All of them would eventually decide it was too strong of a piece for them to hang in their living space, but most of them went on to pick out a different painting, or at the very least, the postcard version of his work.

“Oh? What did you come in for?”

“Anniversary gift for my girlfriend. She moved in last year, but the space is still overwhelmingly mine, and she doesn’t seem to mind but I’d like something in the apartment to make her presence felt.”

“That’s awfully considerate of you, …?” Steve offered his hand to the man.

“Tony,” he took it and shook it.

“Alright, Tony. Well let’s see what we can do about finding a piece that emulates your girlfriend.”

Steve asked Tony about how he and his girlfriend had met, what had drawn him to her, what she did for a living, how she presented herself to the world on a daily basis. As he did so he tried to get a feel for who she was and what standing next to her would feel like without having actually met her.

They started to wander through the gallery as they chatted. They would pause and look at a painting as it caught Tony’s eye, and then Steve would bring him back to his purpose with a _this doesn’t quite feel like her, does it,_ and Tony would chuckle and agree that _no, it does not_ , and they’d move on.

Steve was starting to get a feeling for what kind of painting would be right. Now it was a matter of finding an appropriate price point. Steve didn’t like to take a client past a painting that was wildly outside of their budget. Not only did they fall in love with a piece they couldn’t afford, but they often left without buying anything, because they couldn’t justify buying a piece they didn’t love as much as _that one_.

“It’s that time,” Steve had perfected asking for a ballpark budget in a way that didn’t come across as rude or condescending. “How much are we hoping to spend?”

Tony didn’t bat an eye. “Money’s no object.”

Steve was used to this. Men who came in looking for a gift for their significant other who wouldn’t put a price on their love. They often balked and ran from one of the moderately priced pieces though.

“But a ballpark figure. When you walked in here today, you were hoping to leave with a painting. How much money did you walk in prepared to part with for it?”

Tony barked a laugh. “You’re good, you know that? Really, it doesn’t matter. When we find the perfect painting, I’ll pay you the full price for it, whether it’s fifteen thousand or two million.”

Steve’s heart nearly stopped. Fifteen thousand was the _low end_ of his range? He didn’t usually misread clients quite this badly.

Tony laughed again. “If I’d wanted Gamora to come butter me up again, I’d have made an appointment. Last time I was in she took me around to all the priciest pieces and tried to sell me on each in turn. I guess I’m not as recognizable in my workshop gear,” he looked down at his jeans, “But some days that’s a good thing.”

Steve could feel the blood rush back to his face as he suddenly recognized the inventor. Tony _Stark_ was standing in front of him. Holy _shit_.

Tony clasped him on his shoulder and squeezed, “Oh come now, don’t be like that. You were doing great. Now, if I recall, you had some pieces in mind to show me.”

Steve’s voice was a high squeak when he found it, “I do.” He took a deep breath and cleared his throat. “This way.”

He forced his feet to move. He led Tony to a tall, thin, cream-coloured canvas, flecked with gingers, blues, and greens.

Tony’s jaw dropped open a little when he saw it. “This is it. That’s the one. That’s _Pepper_.” He never took his eyes off of it. “I’ll take it.”

Steve smiled. This was the part he loved. Connecting people with the art that moved them. “There’s a companion piece, a small one-by-one canv-”

Tony cut him off, “I’ll take it.”

“Would you like to take them with you today, or arrange for shipping?”

“I’ll take them. There’s a car out front.” Tony’s eyes were starting to water. Steve wasn’t sure he had blinked since he’d set eyes on the painting.

Steve took the paintings down and wrapped them for transport personally at Tony’s request. He attached the painting description placards to the receipts, and included a copy of the artist’s card.

“How much?” Tony pulled out his chequebook.

“Seven hundred and fifty five thousand,” Steve stated.

“Okay, and how much for the second one?” Tony started filling in the gallery’s information on the cheque.

“No, that’s the total.”

Tony looked up slowly. “That’s not right. They’re _perfect_. I won’t pay less than a million for the two. Make sure the artist gets the money she deserves.” He did some quick math in his head, he made the first cheque out to the gallery for the $755k, and then copied the artist’s name onto a second cheque for $245k. He handed both to Steve before starting a third cheque. “What’s your full name, Steve?”

Steve could feel his cheeks heating. “Oh, please, you’re being far too generous. This is my job, and I’m already making commission off of the listed price.”

Tony wouldn’t take no for an answer, “This is a middle-of-the-road priced piece. And you took me to it _first._ You didn’t run me past more expensive, less perfect pieces and try to convince me they were right. You took me to the right piece. You did your job better than I have ever seen anyone do your job. Please, let me pay you for it.”

Steve couldn’t do it. He had only done what he always did for a customer. He told Tony so. “Just come back to see me the next time you need to pick out a piece,” he handed Tony his card.

Tony pocketed the card. “You don’t even have to ask. There isn’t anyone else in the state I would go to for art.” He called his driver in to carry the paintings out. He left his own card on the counter for Steve, along with $500 cash. “Take it, don’t take it, I’m leaving this here.”

Steve pocketed the money. It wasn’t unusual for him to be tipped for his help, but $500 was still the largest tip he’d ever accepted. That was going to buy quite a few new canvases. His art survived on his commission and tips. It was the only way to allow his art to flow out of him in waves, rather than based on a monthly budget.

The rest of his day flew by. He chatted with people as they looked around. It was obvious from the moment some of them entered that they were using it as a free art viewing rather than being genuinely interested in buying anything. Steve treated each of them like paying customers: standing back and responding to what they responded to; telling them about the artists and their inspiration for that particular piece; guiding them to another piece they would like. Steve worked at the gallery for two reasons: he liked art and he liked people. After making a large sale like that and sealing a customer who intended to be loyal he could afford to spend the rest of his day low-key connecting with people over their favourite pieces.

As they were closing up Gamora came by to chastise him for not passing Tony over to her. He tried to placate her by telling her that he’d tried but Tony had been adamant that he show him around. She wasn’t pleased by the answer, but she at least stopped glowering at him like he’d intentionally stolen one of her clients.

By the time he tightened his tie in place and exited the gallery, locking up behind him, it was 6:15pm. He had to get across town, and he was hoping to get there first because he’d rather be approached than do the approaching.

By the time he strolled into the Hilton’s hotel bar it was 6:45pm. He looked around seeing that there were a few couples here and there taking a drink before supper. He suddenly realized he hadn’t eaten all day, but he was pretty sure he couldn’t keep food down right then if he tried. He took a seat at the bar and ordered a beer. The cool mouthful of amber ale helped soothe the butterflies and put a familiar taste on his tongue. He focused on that, trying not to let his eyes flit around expectantly.

Steve was half way through his beer when someone slid onto the bar stool next to his. The man ordered a bourbon, neat, and gave Steve a once over from the corner of his eye. Steve took another sip from his beer, trying not to panic. There was a good chance this was AP; his hair seemed to be a similar faded ginger and grey to the hair he’d seen in the photo. He was somewhat older than Steve had expected, and deep lines etched his face, but Steve tried not to let that convince him to chicken out. He kept his eyes focused on the bar ahead of him until the man next to him pulled out a thick envelope from the inner breast pocket of his jacket, tapped it against the bar, and slid it towards Steve.

Steve looked up to make eye contact with him. He sipped his bourbon as Steve picked up the envelope. He knew that it would be rude to count the money in front of him so he would just have to trust his payment was there. It was a fairly thick wad, Steve just hoped it wasn’t all ones.

Steve saluted him with his beer and slid the envelope into his own inner pocket. “I’m Grant, nice to meet you,” he offered his hand.

“Al,” the man took his hand, the shake firm and terse. “I don’t want to know if you do or don’t recognize me, I just need to know you won’t tell anyone about this. There’s a little extra in there for your silence.” He took another sip of bourbon.

“I won’t tell a soul,” Steve didn’t recognize the man, and he had zero intentions of telling anyone he’d taken up trading sexual favours for cash.

“Great, then shall we?” Al drained his glass.

Steve’s mouth went dry. He thought they were going to chat here for a bit first. But if his client wanted to move things along, he guessed they’d move things along. He was being paid by the hour, not by the act, so Steve didn’t exactly feel like he could object.

“Sure,” Steve gulped down the last of his beer and followed Al out to the lobby.

They didn’t speak in the elevator to Al’s room. Steve followed him in, surprised to see that it was a larger room than Steve was used to staying in. It had a proper kitchenette and a living room separate from the bedroom.

“Can I get you a drink?” Al asked as he poured two bourbons.

Steve laid his jacket over the back of a chair. It appeared to be a rhetorical question. Steve would have preferred a beer, and he’d opened his mouth to say so, when Al pressed the glass into his hand.

“I’m paying for your time, you’ll drink what I want you to drink.”

Steve swallowed his objection. “Thank you,” he took a sip of the drink. It was stronger than he was used to. When he did partake in bourbon, he liked it with ice, but he let the liquor coat his mouth and warm his insides. It made him feel warm and fuzzy, and gave him a little boost of arousal as well as confidence.

Al turned the TV on. An attractive reporter was talking about the events of the day in a solemn tone. Al sat on the couch and signaled for Steve to sit beside him. “Tell me about your day.”

Steve didn’t know what Al wanted to hear. He tried to remember back to the e-mail Al had sent him detailing what he’d wanted this evening. _To be distracted from work_. Steve had a feeling it didn’t matter what he told him. So he talked about his day at the gallery. Without mentioning names, he rambled on about helping Tony pick out the perfect piece of art. He talked about the other connections he’d made with people who had wandered in. And he eventually just started describing pieces of art he had seen with new eyes today, pieces that hadn’t caught his eye or made him feel something before but that today with a new customer had stirred something in him.

Al didn’t seem to be much of an art admirer. Steve started to tell him about another painting that had grabbed him today when Al interrupted him.

“I’m tired of hearing you speak and my cock is cold.” His eyes never left the TV.

Steve hadn’t noticed, but Al had pulled himself from his slacks and his uncut dick was sitting limp in his lap. He looked to Steve expectantly.

Steve’s words trailed off. He wasn’t exactly sure what he was expected to do.

Al finally tore his eyes away from the news again to face him squarely.

“Warm. It.”

Steve wordlessly sank to his knees in front of the couch and took Al into his mouth. He’d never had an entirely flacid dick in his mouth before, and it wasn’t exactly appealing. He started to run his tongue along the underside of it, trying to bring it to life. A hard cock in his mouth would get him salivating and wanting to fuck. But this fat slug lying heavy against his tongue was doing nothing for him.

Al snapped his fingers twice, the sound clean and sharp. “You’re just _warming_ it. Stop that.”

Steve blushed crimson but immediately quit working his tongue against him. He settled in where he knelt, breathing slowly and evenly through his nose, doing his best to stay perfectly still.

“Good boy,” Al stated as he took a sip of his bourbon. 

Steve didn’t expect the simple praise to go straight to his dick, but it did. He strained against his pants, and his face got even hotter than it had been, but he refused to squirm in his seat. He stayed exactly where he was.

He didn’t know how long he sat like that for. Breath in, breath out. His knees started to hurt, but he willed himself to be still. Breath in, breath out. But ever so slowly, as he sat there focusing on his breathing and maintaining stillness, Al’s cock started to fill until he was full in his mouth, bobbing ever so slightly between Steve’s loose lips to tap at the top of his palate.

Al poured himself another glass of bourbon, and as he lowered his glass after a particularly long sip he gave Steve permission to move. “Blow me,” was all he said.

Steve rocked on his knees, trying to find a better position to sit in and urging blood back into his limbs while he had the chance. He held Al at the base of his dick with one hand, cupped his balls with the other, and wasted no time falling into a rhythm, bobbing along his length. Every time he sucked Al all the way down, Steve nuzzled his nose into his little patch of hair and swallowed around him as he hit the back of his throat. This he could do. This is what he was good at.

Or at least he thought he was.

Al made no sound, no little movements, no slow, exaggerated blinks that gave away his pleasure. He sipped his drink and watched the news as Steve worked. Steve’s neck hurt from the angle he was working from, his throat was starting to get sore, his tongue was aching and tired, as were his lips, but he kept up the steady rhythm of lips sucking, tongue trailing up his length, flicking at the underside and licking around his tip, dipping into the skin to tease at his hole, and then sucking back down again, swallowing around the head of his cock when it reached the back of his throat, repeat.

Al finally tore his eyes away from the TV. He looked down at Steve.

“Good boy.” His voice was the warmest it had been all evening and Steve flushed and keened under the praise.

Al placed a gentle hand at the back of Steve’s head. “May I?” he inquired as he worked his fingers into Steve’s hair a little tighter in question.

Steve gave the tiniest nod as he slackened his jaw and relaxed his throat in anticipation of the face fucking that was to follow.

Al’s grip grew tight, _almost_ too tight, and he brought his other hand around the back of Steve’s head to hold him in place. He slammed Steve’s face into his crotch and held him so firmly against him, Steve nearly couldn’t breathe. He could feel panic building up in his chest, but he urged his breathing to slow. Focused on nothing but his breathing, the slow inhale-exhale he could manage with his nose pressed into Al’s pelvis. He thrust into the back of Steve’s throat, over and over and over. Steve begged himself not to puke, swallowing as frequently as he could manage to provide extra stimulation, but mostly to keep the feeling of nausea at bay.

He could feel Al’s release hit the back of his throat before he could taste it. Salty and bitter. He swallowed it down as Al’s cock continued to careen into the back of his throat. The grip in his hair grew tighter, the force with which he was pressed into his crotch firmer, before Al let out a single gruff _Fuck_ , and released him.

“So good,” Al praised as Steve wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. “You took me so well.” He tucked himself back into his pants and zipped them up.

Steve could feel his cock respond to the praise. He wasn’t sure where Al wanted him next so he just stayed on his knees in front of him, squirming the tiniest bit as his dick filled and strained.

Al directed him to move to the armchair beside the TV. Steve started to unbutton his shirt as he went.

“Leave your clothes on,” Al demanded. “I want to see you come on yourself.”

Steve looked down at what he was wearing. These were his best slacks. But he could probably afford to get them dry-cleaned after this.

He sat in the chair, back straight, knees pressed together.

“Oh, no, please take your time,” Al said drily, sipping from his glass.

Steve tried to relax into the chair. He widened his legs in a way that caused his dick to rub against his pants. He wanted to touch himself, but he had never masturbated for someone before. Not for someone who wasn’t participating. He tried to pretend Al wasn’t there. He focused on the sound of the TV to distract himself from the man sitting across the room from him. Steve palmed his dick through his slacks. Even that small amount of friction was enough to have pleasure pooling in him after being turned on and untouched for so long.

Steve unzipped his pants and pulled himself free, stroking himself in long, firm strokes. It didn’t take long, maybe four pulls, before Steve’s head was rolling back, his jaw lax, eyes closed, his audience all but forgotten. He thumbed through his precome, smearing it along his shaft, letting out a ragged groan at the change in sensation it brought. He started to work himself a little faster, twisting his wrist at the top, rubbing his thumb along his sensitive underside before sliding his fist back down his length.

If he hadn’t been wearing his pants, he’d have started to work a finger into himself, fucked himself best he could on as many as he could manage, but he wasn’t allowed enough access for that. He ground his ass down into the chair, searching for contact that wasn’t there to be found. As his tension and desire built, Steve started to fuck up into his hand. He managed to get his left hand into his pants so that he could pull and press at his balls and inch a finger towards his entrance to play at his rim. He couldn’t help the little noises that escaped him. Little moans and gasps and a near-constant chain of _unh-unh-unh-unh_ s as he fucked his fist and pressed the flat of his fingertip against his hole.

“Look at me,” Al’s voice was far closer than Steve expected.

He opened his eyes and was surprised to find Al was standing over him, jacking himself slowly. Steve didn’t expect that to be hot, but it was. That Al was enjoying what he saw enough to get himself off a second time.

“Good boy,” Al praised as Steve’s eyes met his.

Steve flushed, but didn’t look away, even though he wanted to. He forced himself to continue looking up at Al’s cold blue eyes as he touched himself. He spread his legs wider so that he could press his finger in to the first knuckle as his hand flew up and down his shaft.

“You going to come for me?” Al asked.

Steve looked away shyly, biting his bottom lip as he focused on the feeling of his orgasm building. Al tipped his face back up to his with a single finger under his chin. Steve startled and brought his eyes back to hold Al’s gaze.

“Good boy.”

That little bit of praise had Steve clinging to the edge. He bit his lip and closed his eyes, urging himself to tip over.

“Look at me!” Al demanded, and before Steve could obey, there was a loud smack and Steve’s cheek stung; he saw white, and then he was coming and coming, each glide of his fist milking a little more from him, sending another shiver through his body.

“Look at me,” Al’s request was softer this time, and Steve’s eyes flickered open to meet his. “Good boy,” Al gripped Steve’s chin in his hand so he couldn’t look away. Steve could feel warm, wet streaks across his shirt as Al came on him.

He didn’t know how to feel. He hadn’t agreed to let Al come on him, and he _definitely_ hadn’t agreed to be slapped across the face, but the slap had been surprisingly arousing and had sent him over the edge so he didn’t feel like he could be that angry about it.

Al released Steve’s jaw and tucked himself back into his pants. Steve went to the washroom with the intention of tidying his clothes up but Al stopped him. “Don’t. I want to know that you rode across town a come-covered mess.” Al handed him his jacket.

Steve sighed. There had better be considerably more money than he was expecting in that envelope. He pulled his jacket back on and buttoned it up. It covered the mess across his shirt, but did nothing to hide the pool of come in the crotch of his pants. He checked his pockets and made sure he had all his things, subtly checking that the envelope of cash was still in his jacket. It was.

Al offered him another envelope as he opened the door to usher Steve out. “For your professionalism, and the surprises.”

Steve pocketed it and left.


	10. Chapter 10

The moment Steve was in his apartment he was pulling his come-stained clothes from his body. He dropped them in a heap in his kitchen and jumped straight into the shower. The water was way too hot but Steve didn’t turn it down. He stood straight under the stream of it and tried to make sense of everything swirling around in his head.

He felt dirty and used. He shouldn’t have traded his body for cash. He didn’t know why it felt more invasive than he’d expected, but it had. Maybe it was because Al hadn’t been someone he’d have gone home with if cash weren’t on the table. He scrubbed his skin with a soapy washcloth. Skin that was pink from the heat of the shower came out red under the assault of the cloth. He stayed in there until he’d scrubbed every inch of his body twice and couldn’t take the heat anymore. 

Steve stepped from the shower and wrapped a towel around his hips, not bothering to pat dry any of the water dripping down his body. He went out to the kitchen and grabbed his bottle of bourbon from under the counter. He held it out and looked at it for a second before putting it back in the cupboard. He reached further back until his hand wrapped around the neck of another bottle. He pulled out an old bottle of 151, uncapped it, and took a deep swig straight from the bottle.

Steve gasped and panted as the liquor burned through him. He might as well see how much he’d made for this bullshit. He dug the two envelopes of cash from his jacket and tossed them on the table.

 _They’re probably all ones._ He took another, smaller, swig of rum before placing the bottle down and pulling a wad of bills from the first envelope.

His eyes went wide as he fingered through the cash. Every bill was a hundred. There was a full twenty-five hundred dollars in his hands. Steve’s world spun a little. He reached for the bottle and took another swig, leaning against the table on both elbows to steady himself.

That was just the booking envelope. Al had paid him upfront for a 5-hour booking without specifying how long he’d expected him to stay for. And he certainly hadn’t used the whole time slot. And instead of saying something along the lines of _I overbooked you, your tip is in the first envelope,_ he’d handed him a _second_ envelope.

Steve’s hands were shaking as he opened the second envelope. There was another thousand in the second envelope and a small hand-written note that said _For your discretion._

Steve took another swallow of rum. He didn’t know if he was going to puke, laugh, or cry. He’d been paid thirty-five hundred dollars for two hours with Al. Three thousand five hundred dollars. Three, five, zero, zero. Steve sat on his kitchen floor laughing until tears streamed down his cheeks, liquor bottle gripped in one hand, fist of cash in the other.

His feelings of being used and violated melted away. He’d walked in the door sure he was never going to do anything like this ever again, but as he sat with money in hand, warm belly full of rum, and a laugh in his throat he began to think he could repeat this day in, day out if it were going to pay this well.


	11. Chapter 11

Steve fell into an easy rhythm fairly quickly. He skimmed through Grant’s e-mails over coffee and toast and would set up a couple dates for the week – usually Wednesdays and Fridays – before heading to the gallery. He’d sometimes send Bucky some nothing text over lunch: a confirmation that they were still on for Saturday; a little tidbit of what Steve wanted to do or have done to him during their date; something funny he’d overheard at the gallery; any small excuse for contact. Bucky always replied in kind: that he was looking forward to seeing him; a continuation of Steve’s fantasy; an anecdote from his day. And he always signed his text with two kisses, _xx Bucky._

He hadn’t expected it to happen when he’d started booking dates, but Steve was starting to look forward to Wednesday and Friday nights. He’d started to gain a few repeat customers and one day he found himself wandering the gallery somewhat aimlessly as he remembered the last time he’d been with the client he was seeing that evening, making mental notes to repeat a particular move or throw in something new he was sure they’d enjoy.

He had priority clients, the ones he would have slept with for free if he’d met them by chance or before he’d met Bucky. Those were the ones Steve was tempted to offer to hangout with on their own time, but he was concerned it would devolve into something more, something in the grey area of _do I pay you or no?_ He found himself pulling away from those ones sometimes, trying to keep his feelings in check. _You’re paying me. This isn’t real for either of us._ He’d had to put an end to one of those relationships after they’d gotten too close. Steve had enjoyed his company, a lot, but he didn’t feel any real emotional connection with the guy. The guy had let slip an _I love you_ while he was in Steve, and Steve hadn’t known how to deal with it. So he ran.

Then there were the clients he saw once and refused to respond to when they contacted him for repeat dates. The ones that crossed a line they hadn’t discussed. The ones that did something he had specifically told them was off the table. The ones who shorted him or left him a shitty tip. The ones who left him feeling like a piece of meat rather than a person. Any client who made him hate the business and want out didn’t get a second chance.

And somewhere in between there were the customers who knew what this was: an exchange of money for time and attention and touch. They were made up of all sorts: the pleasant fucks; the ones who wanted to talk for three hours and never once moved to remove an article of clothing; the ones who were happy to see him and wanted to see him again but never made him feel like they were falling for him. These were the ones who knew and liked where the line was. These were his favorite clients. They made his work fun and enjoyable and stress-free.

But Steve’s favorite days were still the ones where he got to see Bucky. He never forgot that was why he’d gotten into escorting in the first place. He was no longer sure he’d quit if he stopped seeing Bucky, but he never forgot that Buck was primarily why he was doing it. His own experiences with the clients who got noticeably too close were helping guide Steve in his own interactions with Bucky. He knew what not to say, how not to say it, and what to absolutely keep to himself in order to keep their relationship in the easy, reliable, comfortable zone.

So when he was on lunch and received an un-prompted text from Bucky, his heart lunged into his throat and beat at double-time.

Received 12:11pm  
_You seemed to really enjoy being held down and told not to move last time. Want me to bring some physical restraints with me tonight? xx Bucky_

Steve swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry and his pants a little tighter. He closed his eyes and remembered back to the night Bucky was referencing. He’d pressed Steve’s wrists into the mattress with all his weight and then released them, telling him not to move them if he didn’t want to be punished. Steve had trembled with the effort to keep his arms and hands where they were, the only motion he’d allowed himself being the clenching and releasing of the sheets in his fists as Bucky had rimmed him.

Sent 12:15pm  
_Gods, yes please. I’ll throw in a little extra if you use me however you want to without any regard for what I want. Anything we’ve done before is on the table._

 _Anything we’ve done before_ included face fucking, deep throating, spanking, choking, face slapping, calling him names, edging, and orgasm denial; there wasn’t much Steve wouldn’t let Bucky do to him.

Received 12:16pm  
_Which of us is the whore here? :P_

Steve blushed. It wasn’t the first time Bucky had thrown out that joke. That the way Steve asked him to use him made it feel like Bucky should be paying him for his services. But Bucky had no idea about Steve’s second job, and as far as Steve knew, Bucky never let anyone actually call him a whore. It was all tongue-in-cheek and part of the weird dynamic they had.

His phone vibrated in his hand again.

Received 12:17pm  
_Do you want to be forced to come repeatedly or edged tonight?_

Steve blushed again, his dick jumping in his pants. There was no way he wasn’t going to return to his shift rocking a hard-on at this rate. He knew it was meant as an innocent question, just feeling out tonight’s scene, but Bucky had to have some idea of what he was doing to him.

Steve closed his eyes and breathed in through his nose, exhaling it slow and controlled through his mouth as he tried to decide which he wanted. He loved being forced to come over and over and over. He loved being brought to a point of being so incredibly oversensitive that he wanted everything to stop, but letting Bucky milk one last one out of him before he was coated in praise and blankets. But he also loved being told not to come. Surrendering his orgasm to Bucky and letting him decide when he was allowed to bask in it. He had clients who wanted to pull orgasm after orgasm from him, who wanted to fuck him dry, but he didn’t have any who wanted to hold his pleasure just out of reach. And if he was going to be bringing some form of cuff or ropes for Steve, Steve thought it fitting to let him bind his pleasure too.

Sent 12:19pm  
_Edge me, please. I want to come tonight, but not until you’ve had your way with me and have decided I deserve to._

Received 12:20pm  
_You got it. See you at 8. xx Bucky_

The second set of kisses meant their correspondence had achieved its goal. Steve put his phone back in his pocket, trying to swallow a bite of sandwich and willing his cheeks to fade and his dick to calm before he had to return to work.

The rest of Steve’s shift dragged by. Despite having a pretty solid idea of what was in store for him tonight, there were enough unknown variables to have his mind wandering and spinning. Once the gallery was locked up, Steve basically bolted home.

He jumped in the shower to freshen up before Bucky arrived. He was tempted to rub one out before they started. He knew it would help him stay sane while Bucky worked him up to the second one, but sanity wasn’t exactly the point, was it? Steve kept his shower short and focused before getting dressed and preparing enough dinner for the both of them, as was his custom. Sometimes Bucky came fed and watched Steve eat, but more and more frequently Bucky was arriving ready for the meal that was always waiting for him.

Steve had just finished plating two servings of spaghetti in Bolognese sauce when there was a knock at his door.

“It’s open,” Steve called.

“Hey,” Bucky let himself in, hanging his jacket by the door and kicking off his boots. “That smells amazing,” he gave Steve a peck on the cheek before seating himself at the table.

Steve joined him at the table and the two of them dug into their food. They always discussed scenes, negotiated boundaries, and established safewords and signals over their meal. Tonight between mouthfuls they agreed that anything they had done before was allowed. Steve emphasized how badly he wanted to be driven to the edge and denied as many times as Bucky thought he could take. Bucky asked him how he wanted to be tied and Steve’s cock twitched in his slacks at the idea of there being coils of rope in Bucky’s overnight bag.

“Anyway you want me tied. I want to be edged. And at some point slapped hard across the face. Multiple times, if you want. Everything else is up to you.”

Bucky pondered this as he scooped another forkful of noodles into his mouth.

By the time their plates were empty _I need to come_ and _No/Stop_ had been replaced with _Blue_ and _Red_ as a way for Steve to get relief or put an abrupt end to everything. Bucky was pulling ropes out of his bag and organizing them on Steve’s bed while Steve did the dishes. Steve joined him on the edge of his bed when he was finished his chores in the kitchen.

“Ready?” Bucky asked, a hint of a wicked grin playing at the corner of his mouth.

“Ready,” Steve smiled back.

“What’s your colour?” Bucky asked as he leaned in half-way for a kiss.

Steve pressed in the rest of the way to close the gap between them. “Green,” he whispered as he pulled back from Buck’s lips.

“Good,” Bucky said. “Then strip.”

Steve did as he was told. Fingers shaking gently with anticipation as he worked open the buttons of his shirt. He pulled his white undershirt up over his head and dropped it to the floor before removing his pants and boxers in one go. His cock was unsurprisingly hard already, and sprung free as he worked his boxers down.

Bucky grabbed Steve’s wrists roughly in one hand, wrapping them with rope. Steve let him work, not fighting back until the cuff had been fastened and Bucky was satisfied with the fit of it. Then Steve yanked his wrists to his chest, putting up a fight as Bucky tried to lead him to the head of the bed.

When it became evident that Bucky wasn’t going to be able to pull Steve by the end of the rope to where he wanted him, Bucky sighed, and shook his head gently. “So that’s how it’s gonna be,” he swatted gently at Steve’s bare ass before grabbing him firmly by the hips and tossing him with surprising ease to the middle of the bed.

He was on top of Steve before Steve could wriggle away, knees holding his hips in place as his hands tossed the end of the rope over the top bar of Steve’s headboard. He pulled hard and Steve’s arms were yanked overhead. Once Bucky had him fastened in place and had checked in that Steve was comfortable there he repositioned himself so that he was sitting on Steve’s pelvis facing his legs. He had a new strand of rope in hand and wrapped it around one of Steve’s thighs. He did the same to the other thigh, and then he strung the rope through the bars of Steve’s headboard, pulled taught, and fastened him in place so he was held open and accessible.

They’d barely started and it was already fucking incredible. Steve hadn’t expected to so thoroughly enjoy just the sensation of the hemp against his skin, but it was delicious, and the feeling of it biting into his skin where it was pulled tight to hold him in place was a bonus. Steve was confused when Bucky continued wrapping rope around his thighs. It wasn’t until the second set of ropes had been tied firmly to the foot of the bed that Steve understood just how helpless he was here. He couldn’t move any closer to the head of the bed, and he couldn’t pull any farther away from it either. He was stuck exactly where Bucky had put him. His heart raced and his cock bobbed.

Bucky chuckled quietly at him as realization seemed to flash in Steve’s eyes and he stilled. “That seems to have taken the fight out of you.” Bucky cracked that wicked smile that told Steve that he had some _plans_ for him. He leaned in close, lips ghosting his cheek, and growled a guttural whisper low in his ear, “You’re fucking mine tonight. You can’t escape, you can’t move, and you can’t _come_.”

Steve was so hard. He didn’t know how the fuck he was going to keep himself from spilling over the edge when he got there. Bucky hadn’t laid a hand on him yet and he already wanted to come.

Bucky kissed his cheek. “What’s your colour?” he whispered.

Steve swallowed hard. “Green.” He was so green.

“You let me know the very _second_ any of your limbs start to fall asleep.” Bucky pulled back to look Steve in the eye so Steve could see how serious he was. Steve nodded his promise.

Bucky patted his cheek where he’d just kissed it, and then without any warning he slapped Steve across the face with a _crack_ that echoed throughout the apartment.

Steve exhaled heavily, pulled at his wrists and grit his teeth with the effort of not coming from that alone.

“You like that, whore?” Bucky spat.

Steve nodded, eyes wide and locked on Bucky’s.

“Open your mouth, whore.” Bucky pulled his jeans down just enough to straddle his face, and pushed all the way into the back of his throat in one motion when Steve opened for him.

Steve moaned around him. He fucking loved being used like this. However Bucky wanted him Bucky could have him. And if Bucky wanted to be buried to the hilt in Steve’s mouth, he was going to take him and swallow him down the best he could. Bucky thrust into his mouth, sometimes short and fast, sometimes deep and slow, until he was holding the back of Steve’s head still and fucking his face at a steady pace, head lolled back, eyes closed.

Bucky came with almost no warning. He whispered a half-muted _Fuck,_ and that was the only sign Steve got before Bucky’s hot load hit the back of his throat. Little surprised tears sprung to the corners of Steve’s eyes as he swallowed Buck down. Bucky’s fingers wove themselves roughly into Steve’s hair, holding him still as he fucked into him twice more before pulling out and releasing Steve’s head.

Steve breathed hard, trying to catch his breath, as his head fell back to the pillow. Bucky’s lips were against his before he even realized what was happening. Tongue pressing into his mouth, scraping against his, searching for the taste of himself on Steve. Bucky’s hand found Steve’s cock while their lips dragged against each other’s. He stroked Steve firmly before pulling back.

“What’s your colour?”

Steve pulled against the bounds of his wrists. “Green.” His voice was wrecked from the throat fucking.

Initially this was where Bucky would demand that Steve tell him exactly when he started wanting to come so Bucky could back off. But by now Bucky had learned all his signs. Bucky could read him so well that he often knew better than Steve did when a little twist of his wrist would send Steve over the edge or when he could take three more strokes before Bucky had to lay off and let him catch his breath.

Bucky wasted no time in stroking him faster and faster until Steve was pulling at his restraints. He was panting breathless little moans when Bucky suddenly released him. Steve felt like he’d been pushed right up to the edge and then left spinning at the top. He teetered there for half a moment, reeling himself back under control as he slowed his breathing.

And then he could feel Bucky’s tongue, wet and hot, licking over his entrance. He threw his head back against the pillow, basking in the sensation but willing his dick to behave. They knew from experience that Bucky’s tongue alone was enough to get Steve off if he was worked up enough. Bucky was covering his hole in little kitten licks, interspersed with long, languid laps that culminated with his tongue dipping into him.

Steve could feel his insides warming and coiling as Bucky worked. He so badly wanted to teeter over the edge. He could call it an accident. He could not warn Bucky in time. He could ask for forgiveness. Or punishment. But that wasn’t what they’d agreed to, and Steve silently swore at himself as he opened his mouth.

“I want to-”

Bucky swirled his tongue along his rim one last time before pulling back and rubbing Steve’s legs as Steve calmed himself down.

Bucky repeated his actions. Stroking Steve to the very edge and then unhanding his cock. Licking him until he was panting and writhing in his restraints and then sitting back. Twisting his wrist, moving his hand over and around Steve’s cock, watching him carefully for any sign that he was losing control.

Steve’s cock was leaking steadily when Bucky whispered a low, “You better fucking not come until I say you can. I’m nowhere near done with you, slut.”

Steve swallowed hard, refusing to let himself come in response to Bucky’s promise. He just nodded, quick jolting motions of his chin. He could feel small tears shake loose at the movement, and roll down his face into his hairline.

Bucky saw them. “Steve, you okay?” There was real concern in his voice. “What’s your colour?”

Steve took a moment to assess how he was feeling. He was tempted to call Blue. To be stroked to release and relief. But Bucky wasn’t done with him yet and Bucky thought he could take more or they’d be done by now. Steve swallowed his out.

“Green.”

“Do you need a breather? Some water?” Bucky was stroking his forehead, soothing fingers against Steve’s skin.

He nodded.

Bucky shuffled off of him to fetch a glass of water. He held Steve’s head up as he lifted the glass to his lips, a gentle trickle fed into Steve’s mouth as he gulped it down greedily. Bucky released Steve’s head gently to the pillow as he signaled he’d had enough.

“You good? Want me to continue?”

Steve nodded.

“Such a good slut,” Bucky smiled at him. “You’re doing so good, Stevie.”

The nickname went straight to Steve’s dick. He wanted Bucky to fuck him, but he knew if he asked for it Bucky would put it off, so he kept his request to himself.

Bucky seemed to be able to read his mind anyways. He rid himself of the rest of his clothes as Steve watched before retrieving a condom and a packet of lube from his jeans. He rolled the condom down his length, covered it in lube, and then smacked his tip against Steve’s hole repeatedly.

Bucky had done this several times before, fucked Steve without using his fingers to prep him first. The last time he’d done it Steve had come as soon as Bucky had gotten himself seated fully in him. The second he’d slid home, Steve had seized around him and come all over himself with a gasp. So Steve was desperately trying to get control of himself, to keep his pleasure pushed down, when he could see what Bucky intended for him.

Bucky pressed a firm hand into the back of each of Steve’s thighs, pressing his legs closer to his chest. It used up the only inch of wiggle room he had and opened Steve up to him just a tiny bit more. Steve was gulping in air. The anticipation of what was coming making it harder to keep a handle on himself.

Steve could feel the head of Bucky’s hard cock pressing at his entrance. He breached Steve gently, stopping as soon as the tip was in place, letting him breathe. It wasn’t the sudden tip-to-hilt force Steve had been expecting, but he still had his eyes clenched tight, willing the desire in his groin to lighten up and uncoil just enough for him to keep himself together.

“Steve.” Bucky’s voice sounded far away.

Steve ignored it.

“Steve, look at me.” His voice was gentle but demanding.

Steve obeyed. His eyes snapped open and latched on to Bucky’s.

“You’re doing so good,” Bucky praised. Steve blushed hot, he could feel his skin from his cheeks all the way down his chest and up to the tips of his ears prickling where it spread.

“So good,” Bucky whispered. “You’re almost there, but not quite. This last bit is going to take all of your control.” Steve was hypnotized by him. He drank in Bucky’s words, unblinking. He was going to be allowed to come soon. There was just one last challenge between him and release. He didn’t care what it was, he was going to do it so he could show Bucky just how good he could be.

“I’m going to slap you. Hard.” Steve’s cock bobbed in response, leaking heavily just at the thought of the quick smack across his cheek and the sweet sting that would follow.

“At the same time I’m going to fuck you. Hard.” Steve was holding his breath now. There was no way he was going to survive this. The slap alone, he _might_ be able to hold back for. But to have Bucky stretch and fill him in one motion at the same time as he slaps him across the face, and then start fucking him immediately instead of giving him a moment to adjust? He wasn’t going to make it.

“You don’t think you can hold out,” Bucky was reading his face. He pet Steve’s hair, smoothing it back off his face. “But you will.”

Steve let out a shaky breath and pulled in much-needed oxygen. “What if I can’t?” Tears sprung to his eyes and threatened to spill over. His cock was _aching_. His balls had already drawn tight and been denied release so many times tonight. And Bucky wanted to _combine_ two sure-fire ways to get Steve off and he still wasn’t allowed to fall over the edge and ride it out.

“If you _don’t_ ,” Bucky emphasized the difference, “If you come before you’re allowed I won’t fuck you through it. I’ll be out of you the second you start and I won’t lay a hand on you until you’re done, and it will only be to release you from the ropes and send you to bed. You’ll be denied a hot bath, and cuddles, and you’ll know you failed me.”

Steve was holding his breath again. Of all the punishments Bucky could have offered – spanking, humiliation, a requirement of service – this was worse than anything Steve could have imagined coming from Bucky’s mouth.

“You can and you _will_.” Bucky soothed. “And when you do, I’ll fuck you through it and milk every last bit of pleasure from you, and then we’ll get you in a hot bath and go to bed, and the whole time I’ll cover you in praise and tell you how good you were. You want that don’t you?”

Steve squeezed his eyes shut and nodded, tears rolling down his face.

“You ready?”

He wasn’t ready. He was never going to be ready. He was being set up to fail. There was no way he could possibly hold himself back during this. But Bucky believed he could do it. He held on to that. Clung to it desperately. Steve bit the inside of his cheek and nodded.

“Deep breath,” Bucky readied his hand to strike.

Steve did as he was told, and then Bucky’s palm made contact with his face. Steve shouldn’t have bitten his cheek; he could taste the blood as it split open at the contact. At the same time, Bucky fucked into him hard and fast. Steve wasn’t given any time to process or adjust, and maybe that was what kept him from spilling over.

Steve’s back arched up off the bed as he dug the back of his head into his pillow. His whole body was tense and aching. His toes curled tight, his legs were shaking, his hips ached from his legs being held open the way they were for so long, his wrists were nearly rubbed raw where he was twisting against his cuffs, and his arms were sore from how hard he was pulling and writhing against his restraints. Steve focused on the taste of his own blood on his tongue, and it kept him in his body for half a moment, but then he was floating.

“So good,” Bucky’s voice was quiet and tinny, like he was calling to him through a tunnel. “So good for me.”

Bucky never once let up on his relentless pace. As he changed the angle slightly, lifting Steve’s hips ever so slightly so he was assaulting Steve’s hot spot with every thrust, the sweetest words Steve had ever heard floated down to him.

“Come for me, Stevie.”

Steve didn’t need to be told twice. The orgasm he’d been holding back washed over him with force. Steve could barely feel the heat of his come as it streaked across the both of them. Wave after wave of pleasure ebbed and flowed over him, and suddenly the restraints no longer seemed to be there to work against him, but to hold and cradle him as he fell apart. He relaxed into them, letting them support his weight as his body shook, all the tension from his muscles bleeding from him.

Bucky fucked him through it as promised. Every thrust was rewarded with another small spurt of come until Steve had nothing left to give.

Steve didn’t even realize he was crying, the tears streaming freely and silently from him as he gasped and shuddered beneath Bucky, until Bucky’s hips had stuttered and stilled with a groan, and he was pressing little kisses to Steve’s forehead and wiping the tears away with his thumbs.

Steve started to sob.

“Shhh, shhh,” Bucky soothed. “Shhh, you did so good. So so good. I’m so proud of you.”

Steve didn’t know why he was crying. His body felt so good. His orgasm had been so huge and so intense it had more than made up for the suffering he’d endured to get there. But he couldn’t stop the wracking sobs from shaking his body.

Bucky’s voice was starting to break around the edges. “Steve?” His fingers started to make quick work of the knots holding Steve in place. “Steve, are you okay?”

Steve did his best to nod, but the gasping sobs didn’t subside. Bucky freed his legs first, his wrists shortly after, and massaged each limb in turn before looping an arm under his legs and pulling Steve into his lap and holding him tight to his chest. He rocked him gently, petting his hair, pressing kisses to his temple.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt? What do you need?”

Steve finally managed to get his breathing back under control. He let out a long, ragged breath and shook his head. He pressed his face into the nook of Bucky’s neck. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what that was.”

Bucky shushed him, “Don’t be sorry. Are you okay?”

Steve nodded against his throat. “I’m _so_ good. It was just…” he searched for the word. It wasn’t coming to him. He let his voice trail off and just breathed quietly against Bucky’s chest for a moment or two until it finally came to him.

“Overwhelming,” Steve finished nearly a full minute later.

Bucky’s fingers stroked through his hair slowly. “I thought maybe I pushed you too far.” His voice was quiet, but Steve could hear his concern loud and clear.

Steve shook his head again, “Mmph. It was perfect. You were perfect.” _You are perfect._

Steve dozed lightly as Bucky drew them a bath. He let Bucky carry him to the bathroom and lower him into the water. Bucky climbed in after him, encouraging Steve to lean back against him as he settled in.

He washed Steve gently in silence. Bar of soap gliding along Steve’s skin followed by handfuls of water to rinse the lather away. Once every inch of him had been cleaned Bucky put the soap away and held Steve close against him.

“I wasn’t going to punish you if you’d come early,” his voice was low and hesitant, like he was telling Steve a secret he wasn’t sure he should be sharing.

“Hmm?” Steve had been dozing gently against him and hadn’t quite understood what he’d said.

“When I slapped you across the face and fucked you open at the same time. If you’d come from that, I wasn’t going to punish you. I would have fucked you through it and we’d still be in the bath like this now.”

Steve smiled a small tired smile, and turned his head to press a kiss to Bucky’s cheek.

“You ready for bed?” Steve nodded. He let Bucky help him out of the tub and towel him off. They headed back to Steve’s bed and climbed in, Bucky wrapping himself tight around Steve, his hand grazing up and down Steve’s arm and torso.

“You need anything?” Bucky placed a small kiss at the nape of Steve’s neck.

Steve’s voice was breathy and exhausted. “Just… you…” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. His cheeks blushed bright.

Bucky pulled him in tight. “Well, you’ve got me.”

It wasn’t what Steve had meant, but he was glad Bucky had let it go without reading too much into it.

Bucky pressed another kiss to Steve’s neck. “No one has given me that much control before. I really loved that. You were good. You were so so good.”

Steve fell into a heavy sleep, wrapped warm in Bucky’s arms. A single incoherent thought running slow circles in his head. _You’re so good loved you’re so good loved you’re so good._

As he fell under, Steve mouthed the words _love you_ as the thought cycled. It didn’t even occur to him to be grateful that no sound came out.


	12. Chapter 12

Steve couldn’t pinpoint when the shift happened, but over the course of the next few weeks, weeks when the words _god, I love you_ pressed against the back of his lips and fought to be released more days than not, Steve stopped being satisfied by his dates with Bucky. Sure, Bucky always _satisfied_ him, but when it was over and Bucky had left, Steve would spend countless hours staring at the ceiling trying to deny the pain in his heart and the words caught in his throat. He was no longer happy when he was with Bucky. Part of him was thrilled to see him, but part of him wanted more. Wanted what he couldn’t have.

But he was just a client. One of many paying customers Bucky pretended to enjoy the company of.

Steve had been toying with the idea of cutting off contact entirely. It was getting too difficult. Bucky was all he thought of when he was with other clients. And when he was with Bucky all he could think about was how it wasn’t enough. How he was sick of counting down the hours and minutes until Bucky left and would be out with someone else. Steve felt guilty that that bothered him. It wasn’t that Bucky _being_ with other people bugged him. Christ, _he_ was with other people. It was the fact that he didn’t mean any more to Bucky than the others. And he wanted to mean more. He wanted to mean everything.

But he didn’t.

Steve’s voice of reason attempted to weigh in every once in a while, too, saying that if he stopped seeing, and consequently paying for Bucky, he was making enough money that he could start putting aside some pretty sizeable savings. Steve had ignored his voice of reason for so long, but it was becoming more difficult to keep stomping it down. He was tired of paying a landlord too much for an apartment that was only in slightly better shape than what might be referred to as a _shit hole_ , his bike could use some repairs and upgrades, most of his wardrobe was due for replacement, and he’d accidentally become accustomed to nicer shirts and properly tailored slacks.

But Steve still wasn’t prepared to actually follow through on it.

It was one of their regular Tuesday nights. They’d lost track of time watching TV together. Bucky sat cross-legged on Steve’s bed, fully invested in the current episode of The Office. Steve’s head was propped against Bucky’s thigh, sketchbook leaned back on his own legs. He looked up every once a while to see what Bucky was laughing at, but mostly he worked on his sketch. He was drawing what he imagined he and Bucky currently looked like, using occasional reflections in the TV as reference.

Bucky leaned down to give Steve a kiss. “We still have enough time if you wanna…” he let the sentence trail on but his meaning was clear.

Steve smiled up at him. “I’m actually good tonight, I’m enjoying drawing.”

Bucky laughed at him. He grazed his hands over Steve’s sides, starting light, barely touching him, “You know, I actually showed up thinkin’ I was gonna get laid,” and then he dug in and tickled Steve until he tossed the sketchbook aside, laughing and wheezing, curling in a ball trying to escape the assault.

“Stop!” Steve cried between laughs and gasps, “Please! Buck! Stop! I love you but I’ll kick you if I have to!”

The tickling stopped immediately.

It took Steve a moment to realize what he’d said, but as it dawned on him his face burned hot. He could feel it spread across his whole body. He prayed the ground would open up and swallow him. He would give anything to take back those stupid words.

Bucky gaped at him.

He swallowed hard and stood up suddenly. Steve didn’t know what to do. Take it back? Pretend he hadn’t said anything? Repeat it? Shout it from the rooftop? He wanted to. He wanted to grab Bucky’s face and tell him _I love you, I love you,_ _I love you,_ over and over again.

Bucky still hadn’t said anything. Repeating himself probably wasn’t the right course of action. He went for denial.

“I’m sorry,” Steve scrubbed a hand through his hair and scratched at the back of his head. “I didn’t mean– the words just slipped out– I don’t–”

Bucky went to the sink and poured himself a glass of water. He busied himself with drinking it steadily, his back to Steve.

Steve wanted to cry. The tension in the air was so thick he could taste it. He’d fucked up everything. But a little part of him reminded him that it was inevitable, and possibly for the best.

He ignored his heart trying to beat its way out of his chest, and tried to let reason speak for once. “It’s uh, it’s getting late. You should go.”

Bucky turned and looked at him, bewildered. He snapped his jaw shut, “Right. I should– Yeah.”

Steve chewed on his lower lip as he watched Bucky shove his feet into his boots and grab his jacket. Steve opened the door for him. He normally leaned in to grab a last kiss from Bucky on his way out, but he didn’t move this time. Just held the door wide.

Bucky paused in the doorway and looked at him, face unreadable. “Right. Night, Steve.”

And then he was gone.

Unbidden tears broke loose as Steve crumpled against the closed door.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone,
> 
> Sorry I'm late with the update this weekend! You get two chapters as an apology!
> 
> I hope you enjoy them, and have a safe and happy Halloween <3
> 
> Love,  
> GG

Steve didn’t have it in him to face Bucky again after that. His options were few and all of them shitty. He could pretend nothing had happened, but he knew he’d constantly be waiting for shit to hit the fan. He could backpedal and say he hadn’t really meant it, but the only thing Steve could think of that was worse than cutting ties with Bucky was straight up lying to him about how he felt. However, repeating his words was a non-option. 

So he jumped when his phone buzzed, and got used to the sinking disappointment of the person on the other end not being Buck, but accepted that Buck didn’t feel the same way and didn’t want to see him again after finding out how strong Steve’s attachment had become. Because if he wanted to, he’d call, right? It still twisted like a knife in Steve’s gut when he thought about Bucky though. There were whole days where Steve couldn’t distract his mind from how much he missed Bucky. And that pang of emptiness was always intermingled with this fiery jealousy that boiled in the pit of his stomach and turned to acid in the back of his throat when Steve thought about the clients who still got to see him. The clients Bucky still wanted to see.

Days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months. Steve toned down his schedule so that he was only seeing one client a week. Not seeing Bucky had stopped the bleeding to his accounts and he’d considered shutting down his side business entirely, but he was still enjoying it, and it was nice putting a little extra money in the bank when he could. His savings were growing sizeably, and he had plenty of time for art; maybe that’s why it was all the more frustrating that he had a large pile of trashed canvases in a pile and no new pieces to take to the gallery.

Steve rifled through the pile, seizing one and trying to pick out where the piece he had planned out in his mind was going wrong. The picture in his head was exquisite: delicate poppies on a black background. And really, he should have no trouble executing it. Steve couldn’t tell if it was something wrong with his paints or his hands, but every time he started to paint flowers over the dark background, the red seemed to bleed everywhere. He’d tried putting the flowers in place first, delicate, floating atop thin stems, bowing to the wind’s will, and adding the black in after, but that just seemed to harden the edges of the flowers. They ended up being rigid and menacing and all wrong. It wasn’t until Sam was over listening to Steve bemoan his current lack of artistry that Sam finally looked him straight in the eye over his beer and told him it was obvious he was having more issues than what he was sharing with him and to just _paint what’s on your heart._

Steve had taken it literally. He’d bought himself the largest canvas he could fit through his door – a 6-foot by 6-foot square – and he’d painted it black and carved an anatomical heart across it in thick oils. He liked the way you could see the texture of each stroke of the brush carved into the paint. It was the most honest thing he’d painted in a while and everything was in plain view, every single brush movement documented in the raised ridges of paint left in its wake. When Steve stepped back to admire the finished product, he felt a quiet calm fall over him. The sad, wired energy he’d been holding in was finally trapped on the canvas instead of beneath his skin. A blood-red heart, half of it raw, vulnerable, beating, the other half covered in impenetrable steel, immobile, unmoving. It was hard to tell if it was trapped or protected, but Steve could almost hear the sound the ridges of metal would make, grinding against each other with every pump. And the texture of the paint leaping off the campus gave the impression that he might cut his hand on a sharp edge if he dragged his palm across it.

Steve resisted the urge to throw a can of black paint at it, to cover it back up again. Instead, he turned the lights off and shut the door, leaving his heart sealed behind a closed door where it couldn’t hurt anyone.


	14. Chapter 14

Bucky hadn’t known how to handle his last encounter with Steve. He’d had a sense that those feelings had been simmering below the surface, but he hadn’t been at all prepared for the words to pop out of Steve like that. He wasn’t ready, and he hadn’t handled it well at all. If he’d had time, they would have at least talked about it. Bucky could have drawn a clear line in the sand and pretended he believed Steve when he said he didn’t mean it, that it had just slipped out. He could have kissed him, on the forehead at the very least, before leaving. Could have done so much better than staring blankly with a tense jaw and leaving when Steve snapped at him.

By the time he’d made it across town he’d decided he’d let Steve dictate the next move. If Steve wanted to pretend nothing had happened, he’d go along with it. But then Steve didn’t text. Didn’t call. Didn’t e-mail for a booking. Nothing. And by the time a month had gone by it didn’t matter that every day Bucky had had an inexplicable urge to check in on the guy and make sure he was okay. He still hadn’t followed through on it. For a full month he hadn’t. So what excuse could he come up with for reaching out to him out of the blue today? And when he couldn’t come up with one he let one full month turn into several.

Bucky knew all too well not to turn clients into friends, and certainly not to make them anything more than that. Clients were clients. They paid for his time or they didn’t get his time. Those were the rules. It kept him safe and it kept him paid.

But suddenly losing Steve as a client, without any previous warning… Bucky had to keep reminding himself to snap out of it. That this was still the way it would have gone if they’d talked about it. Steve paid for his time or Steve didn’t see him. But a small part of Bucky was lying every time he told himself that he was okay not seeing Steve anymore.

Okay, a large part of Bucky was lying about that. But Bucky tried not to tell himself that. What could he do? He hadn’t texted Steve in months. Still, he couldn’t help that his mind constantly got stuck in the divet between Steve’s hip and his pelvis. Or the space where that perfect, firm ass of his sloped and creased into thick thighs. 

Even now, with another client, his mind was currently wedged in Steve’s gorgeous cleavage, formed when his solid handfuls of pecs were pushed and squeezed together. God, he had some of the best tits Bucky’d had the pleasure of handling. The vision was adding to the tangle of pleasure running through him, lips wrapped tight round his cock, tongue wet and hot dragging against him. Bucky let his fingers weave gently through a fistful of hair. He tugged gently and it elicited a moan that pulled one from him in turn. God, he wanted to thrust up into the heat. To press the head of his cock into the soft space where tongue met throat. Maybe even make him gag a little. He rolled his hips a half an inch before remembering himself, and seating himself back firmly where he was. But a firm tug from the hands at his hips followed, and that was all the invite he needed. Bucky tightened his grip on the hair in his hand and pressed himself all the way in until he felt throat constrict around him. Christ, he was always so good for him, taking him all the way in, swallowing him down, barely even choking on him. 

Bucky clenched his eyes shut and let his head fall back against the head of the bed, overcome with pleasure. “Fuck, Stevie. Fuck, I’m gonna,” Bucky’s entire body tightened as he spilled over the edge, thrusting hard and fast until he was spent and sated.

His eyes were still closed when his face was covered in something warm. It took his brain a pleasure-coated moment to combine the sound that had preceded the sensation and process the fact that he’d been spat on. He wiped come and spit from his eyes before blinking in confusion to see Brock throwing his clothes back on in a poorly concealed rage.   “Who the _fuck_ is _Stevie_?!”

 _Shit._ Bucky’d really bungled things this time. He hadn’t even realized Steve’s name had slipped out of his mouth.

 “Who’s paying who to satisfy fantasies here, _huh_?!” Brock’s face was red and he looked like only a thread of self-discipline was keeping him from taking a swing at Bucky. “Where’s my payment?” Brock was digging through Bucky’s jacket pockets now, tossed haphazardly over an armchair in the corner of the hotel room. He found what he was looking for and pocketed it. “This one’s on you, asshole,” he shouted before the door slammed closed behind him.

Bucky knocked his head back against the bedframe. “Fuck.”

That was the line. He had never been that unprofessional before. Ever. And he couldn’t afford for it to happen again. He fumbled through his phone directory until he found Steve’s number. He took a deep breath and didn’t release it until after he’d deleted the contact.

That was the easy part. Now he needed to stop thinking about him.


	15. Chapter 15

“You’re still in for Christmas, right?” Bucky had a mouthful of burger, but he spoke around it, manners be damned.

He’d been friends with Natasha for years. They’d met in college, and it wasn’t until he saw how easily she had been paying for school and dance classes with her escorting services that he’d decided to give it a shot. They’d tried dating for a few weeks, but it had put a weird spin on their friendship and it wasn’t long before they had decided to dial it back again.

Nat had joined him for Christmas week for the past two years so he could escape the endless assault of questions about when he was going to settle down and see someone seriously. It did, however, mean that as a pair they were hit with the more _serious_ questions. Every year was a litany of when were they going to tie the knot?, were babies in the future? or what about a dog? But since the whole thing was a farce they enjoyed the act of putting on the show for the family and making up answers knowing none of it mattered.

She swallowed her mouthful of soda, one eyebrow raised, the other furrowed, before she answered. “I thought I told you already. I can’t.”

“Awe, c’mon, Nat! What about our blackout deal? We don’t take clients over Christmas unless we’re getting a free week of vacation _and_ more than 20 grand for our effort?” It wasn’t even a real agreement. They’d thrown out ridiculous scenarios that they were never ever going to be offered until they’d been in fits of laughter before settling the fact that they’d do Christmases at Bucky’s place but in return he had to attend funerals with Natasha indefinitely (he hadn’t thought much about this trade originally, but it turned out a surprising number of people Natasha knew died over the course of a year). Nat didn’t say anything. Instead she managed to raise her eyebrow even _further_ , and her lips played at a smirk as she sipped through her straw.

“You’re _kidding,_ ” Bucky gaped. He put – more like dropped – his burger back on to his plate. “ _Twenty_ _thousand_ and an _all expenses paid trip_ over Christmas?!” The questions all fell out of his mouth at once, “Where are you going? _Who’s_ taking you?! Are you _serious?!_ You’re not, are you? You’re just making this up to get out of caroling with my sisters, aren’t you?”

“Dead serious,” she said, eyebrow still raised as she picked up her own burger and took a bite. “I’ve told you about Clint, right?” she asked around her mouthful. She swallowed before continuing. “He’s taking me to Budapest.”

There was that sly smile again. He was sure she was pulling his leg. Bucky leant forward, elbows on the table, staring her down and searching her face for the tiniest tell he knew she had. When she lied, the corners of her eyes crinkled just a touch more than they did normally. But they were smooth and twitch-free.

“Holy shit,” he sat back in his seat. “You’re serious. You’re fucking serious.” He picked up his bottle of beer and held it up for Nat to tap her own against, “Congratulations.” He took a sip and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “What the fuck is in Budapest?”

“He has to go for work and he didn’t want to go alone.” There was a little extra twinkle in Natasha’s eye. There was more to this story than she was telling him. He had the inkling of a feeling that she was breaking the cardinal rule and developing a relationship with one of her long-term clients. But to get her to admit it would take more alcohol than he had the stomach to drink, and to get her to accept that it was a terrible idea would be an impossible feat, so Bucky decided to let it go. Besides, he had a more pressing question for her.

“What the fuck am I supposed to do now?” he whined.

Natasha shrugged sympathetically. “I don’t know, I’m sorry. You could always go alone. Just tell them I was sick and I couldn’t make the trip this year. I’ll go with you next year.”

“Right. Because Clint won’t whisk you away to Prague next year.” He was pouting. He would never admit to pouting, but that didn’t mean it didn’t happen. “I can’t go alone. Even if I tell them we broke up, I can’t possibly face a whole week with my family by myself.” He took another swig of beer and shook his head, “You remember my Uncle Don, don’t you?”

A look of horror flashed across Natasha’s features. “How could I forget Uncle Don?” She furrowed her eyebrows again, “I’m really sorry, Buck. I’ll fix this, okay? I’ll find someone to go with you and be your date for the week, alright?”

Bucky raised his beer in a faux salute, “Whatever.” With Natasha off in Budapest for the week instead of helping him fend off the insanity that was his extended family, Christmas was going to be an emotional horror show and the thought of facing that with someone other than Nat… God, it just filled him with dread.


	16. Chapter 16

Christmas drew closer and Bucky still didn’t know whom he was taking with him to suffer through a week with the Barnes Family. He hadn’t bothered following up with Nat despite her promise to supply him with a replacement date. Since he wasn’t going to be enjoying a week of inside jokes with her, he didn’t really care, and had resigned himself to facing the holidays alone. So he wasn’t expecting to be woken up by Nat calling his cell phone at four in the morning the day he was scheduled to leave for Indiana.

“What the _fuck,_ Nat? Do you know what time it is?!” It was hardly a greeting, but _Christ_.

“I’m so sorry, Buck. I just, I’m on the way to the airport and I realized I’d totally forgotten to tell you about your date. His name is Grant. He’s in the business. He made it sound like I was doing him a huge favour getting him out of town for the holidays. He didn’t want me to pay him at all, but I insisted on giving him a couple grand for his trouble.”

Bucky was awake after that. “Nat, are you fucking kidding?”

“Don’t worry about it, it’s your Christmas gift.” She paused for a moment before continuing. “Scratch that, it’s just my apology for bailing on Christmas. If you like him I’ll buy you a few more nights for your Christmas gift. And _oh_ , you’re going to like him! He is a _tall_ drink of water. _Fuck,_ I don’t have his picture on this phone. I was going to send you his picture. Shit, well, I’ll text him and tell him to hold a sign that says _James McAsshat_ on it for you at the airport. You’ll know him when you see him. Oh, and I called earlier and moved your seats around so you’re sitting together.”

“Nat! NAT!” He’d been trying to get her attention since she’d started rambling. She finally let him get a word in edgewise. “Grant? You’re sending me with a _Grant?!_ ”

“I know, Uncle Don is going to lose his mind. I’m sorry I won’t be there to see it. Will you send me a picture?” Natasha sounded elated.

“ _Will I send you a picture,_ ” Bucky mocked. “Have you warned this guy that you’re sending him to homophobic hickville for a week?!”

Natasha exhaled an exaggerated sigh. “I’m not a monster, Buck! Of course I warned him. And you should have seen his face at the prospect of pinching your ass and stealing kisses in front of your family.”

Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose. This was going to be a nightmare. “Fuck, Nat.”

“You’re welcome, Bucky.” Nat’s voice was bright. He knew her well enough to know that she had picked up on his frustration with her and was just ignoring it. “Have fun! You’ll have to wait until I’m home to let me know how it goes. I’ll be off the map until the New Year. Love you!”

Bucky sighed. “Love you too. Have fun.” He tossed his phone back onto his bedside table before rolling over and trying to go back to sleep. He needed to be up in a few hours to get to the airport himself, and he wanted to catch as much shut eye as he could before he had to introduce _Grant_ to his nutjob family.

His mind kept flipping between trying to figure out how he was going to survive bringing a guy home to meet the homophobes on his dad’s side of the family, and what this _tall drink of water_ would actually look like. Grant was such an old fashioned name, he was having a hard time putting a face to it. Or even a hair colour. He had no idea what to expect a Grant to be like. As Bucky slipped back to sleep he didn’t notice that Steve’s face had settled in place where Grant’s was blank.


	17. Chapter 17

Bucky slept through his first alarm.

And the one after that. _And_ the one after that.

When he did finally get to the airport he’d leapt from the cab and ran to check-in. He dropped his baggage on the conveyer belt and thrust a fistful of ID and boarding passes at the lady behind the counter. She had promised to call the gate and let them know he was on his way, but he still sprinted to security. Thank god he wasn’t leaving the country, the international flight security lineup was ages long. Domestic flight security was still an overzealous pain in the ass to get through but at least there wasn’t a wait. He slowed to a walk before approaching the guards. He dumped his carry-on bag, watch, and belt into the offered tray before stepping through the metal detector and letting an officer pat him down. It wasn’t until he was buckling his belt back into place that he realized he was supposed to find Grant somewhere before the flight.

 _Oh well_ , he thought to himself as he sprinted to his departure gate. _Grant either makes the flight or he doesn’t._ Honestly, the trip home might be less stressful without a stranger in tow.

As Bucky rounded the corner he could see that his flight was still being boarded. A line up of people waited for their boarding passes to be checked, and still a few sat waiting for the last call to be made. He could see a large man sitting, checking his watch and looking around anxiously while fiddling with his blue cap and the sign in his lap. It looked like Grant made it after all.

*

Steve fiddled with the sign in his lap. He was getting nervous that James hadn’t showed yet. Nothing like doing the fake boyfriend thing without the fake boyfriend. He didn’t know what he was going to do if James didn’t make the flight. Going to Indiana without reason somehow still seemed preferable to making them unpack the plane to find his luggage if he decided not to get on the flight.

Someone jogging towards the gate caught his eye, and Steve turned to see none other than Bucky approaching him. What were the fucking odds that Bucky would be on this flight too? Christ this was a nightmare. He didn’t know why he’d agreed to this.

Steve looked down and his eyes settled on the sign in his hands. _James McA**hat._

_James._

_Fuck,_ Steve thought. _No. This isn’t happening. No no no no no._ Steve’s whole body had flushed with an anxious heat. He was sure that if the floor didn’t open up and swallow him like he was praying it would that he’d definitely catch fire and burn to a pile of ash, and he was okay with either of these options. Anything to avoid this interaction with Bucky.

This _week_ with Bucky.

Bucky’s eyes were focused on the sign. Steve didn’t know what to do. He tugged nervously at the visor of his cap, pulling it low over his eyes that didn’t know where to look. He stared at his hands.

“Grant!” Bucky was breathing heavily. He must have run across the entire airport. “I am _so sorry_ I’m late. I promise, I’m usually more punctual than this.” He gulped air in before continuing, “You actually made the stupid sign Natasha told you to bring?” He squinted at it, “Why did you put asterisks in for the esses?”

Steve’s voice was barely louder than a whisper, “Coulda been children.” He had never been this crimson in his entire life. And if he was lucky, he’d vanish from existence at _this very moment_ and never be red again for as long as the earth continued to spin.

He wasn’t lucky though.

“Should we board?” Bucky was so distracted from being late and the rush of adrenaline running through him from barely making his flight that he hadn’t actually taken a good look at _Grant_ yet. He was rummaging through the things clenched in his hands trying to find the boarding pass for the flight attendant when he realized he was standing at the gate alone. “Grant, are you coming? I mean, you don’t have to if you don’t want to. I don’t know if Natasha warned you about what you’ve signed up for but not all of my family members are great people and if you wanted to bow out now you could.” He turned back to see if he could read a response on Grant’s face.

Steve was staring at his shoes a few paces from the lineup. He couldn’t bring himself to _pretend_ to be Grant for the few moments it would take Bucky to figure out who he was. So he stood there waiting to be sent packing.

“Grant?” Bucky was looking at him. Actually looking at him for the first time since he’d gotten there.

Steve shuffled his feet a bit before biting the bullet and looking up to meet Bucky’s gaze. Bucky looked like the air had been punched out of him.

“ _Steve?”_

Steve just nodded. He could feel hot tears welling up in his eyes and threatening to spill over. He had never been so humiliated in his life. And the worst was yet to come. Bucky was going to tell him to go the fuck home and he was going to have to ask the flight attendants to delay the flight and get his luggage off the plane for him while he fought back tears.

His voice was barely audible when he spoke. “Hey, Buck.”

“We don’t exactly have a lot of time here, Steve. Are you coming or not?”

Steve couldn’t quite believe his ears. “Uh, yeah. I am.” Steve followed him into the lineup as Bucky handed his paperwork to the flight attendant.

As they walked the length of the jet bridge, Bucky turned to him again, confusion etched between his brows. “Natasha _hired_ you? We obviously have some catching up to do.”

Steve blushed again. Why hadn’t he turned around and gone home? This couldn’t be worse.

“Wait.” Bucky actually comes to a stop on the gangway. “You didn’t like, _get_ Natasha to hire you, did you? She said you’re in the business. You didn’t fake being an escort in order to see me again, did you?”

Steve was wrong. This was worse.

He was _mortified_ that Bucky would even _think_ that of him. “What?! No!” How desperate and creepy did Bucky think he was? “I was as surprised to see you as you were to see me.”

“Okay. Good.” Bucky resumed walking towards the plane. “Because you could have just called.”

Steve hurried after him to catch up as they reached the plane. They were directed to their seats and Bucky shoved their carry-on bags into the overhead compartments while Steve got settled into his seat. It wasn’t until after the plane was in the air that Bucky stopped white-knuckling his arm rests and finally spoke again.

“So catch me up. How do you know Nat?”

“Um, I don’t really. I just had an influx of clients one week, and when I asked how they had found out about me every single one of them cited her. And then she started contacting me directly to offer me clients she couldn’t take on.”

“Forgive me, but did I miss the conversation when we first met about you also being an escort?”

Steve blushed a furious pink. He shook his head, the tiniest of movements as if maybe if he stayed still Bucky would stop seeing him. Bucky tore open his little packet of airline peanuts and tossed a couple into his mouth, “There’s a story here. I want to hear it.”

Steve shook his head again. God, why were his cheeks so hot. He was definitely not going to admit to using it to finance his ongoing dates with Bucky. “I, uh… It seemed like a good way to supplement my earnings at the gallery. I just hadn’t considered it before I met you.”

Bucky smirked a little knowing smile. “Should have said something. We usually give discounts to others in the business. More of a trade of time and skills,” he winked and it went straight to Steve’s gut like a hot knife. The initial feeling faded to a warm pooling of want and he stared at his hands in his lap and urged his dick to stay exactly where it was.

“So?” Bucky asked, shoving another handful of peanuts into his mouth, “How do you like it?”

It took Steve a moment to realize they were still talking about escorting; he was so focused on the rush of feelings Bucky was stirring up in him that he’d lost track of the conversation. He cocked his head to the left as he considered how to sum up his experience as a call boy. “It’s mostly fun. There have been a few clients who have made me question my life choices, but mostly it’s enjoyable. And I might actually be able to put a down payment on an apartment soon, so that doesn’t hurt.”

Bucky nodded, the knowing smile still glowing across his face. He laughed, “Yeah, the savings account is a nice perk for sure. I originally started to pay for school. The freedom of not needing to take out any more student loans was incredible. And being able to pay off the loans I already had in a year or so instead of twenty,” he shook his head, “I don’t know why more people don’t do it.”

Steve laughed. He thought back to the times he’d been assaulted on the job. The emotional attachments that had formed even when everyone involved wanted nothing more than a no-strings-attached fuck. He thought about leaving this line of work every month or so. It definitely wasn’t for everyone.

“This’ll be an interesting turn of events, won’t it?” Bucky tipped the bag back to empty the last of the nuts into his mouth, dumping the collection of salt with it. He dusted his hands off as Steve cocked his head at him in confusion. “What with me being the ‘client’ for a change here,” he added the air quotes with a hint of laughter.

“Right,” Steve had almost forgotten why he was here. “So what’s the gameplan? Natasha only said I was filling her spot for a week of pretending to be your boyfriend in front of your family.”

“That’s basically it. You’re here to suffer through Christmas with me. Help me fend off the questions about settling down and having children. Give me an excuse to leave the table early and to not shoot cans for the entire week with my cousins. And to help me laugh off all the bullshit that comes out of Uncle Don’s face.” He turned to Steve, a serious look on his face. “Nat _did_ warn you about Don, right? Because she owes you a helluva lot more than she’s paying you if she didn’t.”

“I can handle Don,” Steve smiled. Despite everything, Steve couldn’t help thinking how sweet it was that Bucky seemed to be actually concerned about subjecting him to his family.


	18. Chapter 18

The pilot announced that they would be making their descent shortly. The announcement brought their conversation to an immediate halt. Steve looked over to see Buck visibly pale, hands holding tight to the arm rests again.

“You okay?” Steve asked, brows furrowed in concern.

Bucky replied with a _Yeah_ really quickly but he still looked green around the gills.

Steve didn’t even think about what he was doing, just reached his hand over and gently pried Bucky’s grip loose, intertwining their fingers together. He gave Bucky a quick reassuring squeeze. Bucky returned the squeeze with a knuckle-bruising deathlock that got tighter every time they hit a small amount of turbulence. Steve just rubbed small soothing circles into Bucky’s skin with his thumb until they were safely on the ground. The small gasp that escaped Bucky as the wheels touched down had made Steve want to laugh but he’d managed to stifle it and cover it with a smile instead.

As they were gathering their baggage and preparing to disembark, Steve was trying to remember back to how Bucky had behaved as his fake boyfriend at Peggy’s wedding, making last minute notes of the small details: the hand in the small of the back; the small kisses while making it look like you think no one’s watching; the adoration-filled glances. When he’d agreed to take on the client Natasha had bailed on he’d been prepared to behave this way with a stranger. But now that it was Bucky, he had to swallow a ball of embarrassed anxiety over the fact that adoring gazes and small touches could be misinterpreted. Or more accurately, interpreted entirely correctly.

“So how quickly does this performance start?” Steve asked as they made their way down the gangway. “Is your family going to be out in arrivals waiting for us? Or are we safe until we get to your grandparents’ place?”

“Naw, we’re taking a cab to the farm. Buys us another hour before hell hits.”

Steve laughed. “Alright,” he stuffed his hands into his pockets so he wouldn’t be tempted to grab Bucky’s before it was necessary.

Bucky gave him a brief rundown of who all was going to be at the Barnes Christmas while they were waiting for their luggage to arrive at the carousel. “Mom will like you. As will Sarah. Sarah loves art history, so if you don’t like anyone else, you can at least chat with her. My sisters are easy enough to get along with, but Becca is getting married next summer, so good luck getting her to talk about anything else. My Aunt Ida is a riot, especially after she’s had a couple glasses of gin. Not always PC, but tolerable. My grandparents have totally lost their filters, so don’t mind them. I’ve never even considered coming out to my Pappy, so he might have a goddamn heart attack. But then again, maybe not. They raised my dad, and he would have been fine with it.” Bucky shrugged like being forced to come out to his entire family over Christmas because Natasha didn’t find a more ‘suitable’ replacement was no big deal. Steve fought the urge to lean in and kiss him right then and there because goddammit if that didn’t make him fall in love with him a little bit more than he already was.

They found their bags and headed for the doors to hail a cab. As they were half way through the throng of people hanging around the arrivals gate someone shouted, “Buck Buck!” from behind them, and a young girl rushed past Steve and threw herself around Bucky.

For half a moment it looked like Bucky was going to topple over but Steve grabbed his shoulder to steady him. Bucky hoisted the girl up so she could wrap her arms around his neck and bury her face in his neck.

“Hey, Kiddo!” Bucky kissed the girl on the top of her head. “How you doin’? Look how big you’ve gotten! I’m not going to be able to hold you up like this soon!” He made a show of straining under her weight even though she couldn’t be older than five.

“Don’t be silly, Uncle Buck Buck,” the girl laughed.

“Alright, alright. No sillyness.” Bucky made a very serious face. “I have someone I’d like you to meet, Sarah. This is Steve.”

As he turned so that she could be acquainted with Steve she burried her face in his neck again.

“It’s nice to meet you, Sarah,” Steve said to the back of her neck.

Bucky gave Steve a sympathetic smile. “Oh, are we shy today?” Bucky laughed while bouncing the girl in his arms. “Alright. We’ll meet Steve later. Where’s your mama?” Bucky turned, searching for the adults who had to be nearby. Steve watched a smile crack across his face as he found who he was looking for.

When he put Sarah down, Steve tried to say hi to her with a gentle smile and a small wave, but the girl immediately attached herself to the leg of a woman and hid her face from him again.

“Hey Mama,” Bucky greeted. “Where’s Josie?” he looked around to see if he could spot her in the crowd.

“Josie’s back at the house. I was going to come alone, God knows I needed out of that house for a bit, but Sarah here wouldn’t take no for an answer. Had to come get Uncle Buck Buck with me. Isn’t that right, Sweetpea?” She tousled the girl’s hair as she continued to cling to her leg. “Who’s your friend?” she asked, eyeing Steve up and down.

“Right. This is Steve. Steve, this is my Mama, Winifred.”

She extended a hand for Steve to shake. It’s a firmer grip than Steve had expected from such a dainty lady. “Winifred,” she scoffed. “Please, call me Winnie.”

“Winnie it is,” Steve smiled. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“Finally, eh?” Winnie took Steve’s duffel from him and took Sarah by the hand to lead them out to the car. “You two better not have been dating too long considering I haven’t heard a damn thing about you,” she glared at Bucky.

Bucky stared guiltily at his feet. “Not too long, Mama.”

“You didn’t even tell me you and Nat broke up? What happened? She was such a lovely girl.” Winnie stopped snapping at her son long enough to seemingly realize that maybe she shouldn’t be interrogating him about his ex in front of his current partner. “Sorry, Steve. I’m sure you’re lovely. Bucky just never phones home.”

“It’s alright,” Steve answered reflexively.

Steve tried to help with the luggage when they got to the car, but between Bucky and Winnie the car was packed and Sarah was being fastened into her car seat before Steve could even pry a piece of baggage from either of them. He managed to retrieve a small sketchpad from his carry-on before they were all packed into the station wagon, Winnie and Bucky in the front, Sarah and Steve in the back.

Winnie caught Bucky up on the family going-ons as she drove. Occasionally she fired a question back at Steve, but Steve spent most of the drive eavesdropping while he sketched. Sarah remained shy for the first ten minutes of the drive, but as soon as Steve started to lose himself in his drawing she seemed to take a sudden interest in him.

“What are you drawing?” she asked, craning her neck so she could try to catch a glimpse of his sketchbook.

He turned it to show her, a field of cows, a sprawling farmhouse in the background, and a tractor working the fields roughly sketched out. He’d only just started to build one of the cows into a more realistic looking animal.

“Oh oh oh! You like to draw animals? You know who else likes to draw animals? Omar Rayyan! He draws people with their pets or pets with their pets! Like a mouse riding a chicken like a horse!” She laughed at the absurdity of it. “Will you draw me with the cow? Please? But make the cow look more like a monster cow! Or an alien cow!”

Bucky turned back to watch the commotion in the backseat. “Well that didn’t take long. Hey Kiddo, people usually pay an artist for commissions,” Bucky joked.

She sounded it out slowly, “Com-mish-ens?”

“Yeah, commissions,” Bucky repeated. “When you want an artist to draw something specific for you, you pay them for it.”

“Oh,” her face fell. “I spent my allowance on Christmas presents.”

Steve flipped the page and started mapping out the drawing. “Don’t worry about it, Sarah. I’ll do this one for free.”

For the next 45 minutes Steve drew Sarah and made adjustments as she instructed until what resulted was a picture of a chubby-cheeked preschooler with golden curls and a flower in her hair with her arms wrapped around a grotesque calf with too many eyes and legs that looked very disgruntled about being held up by its middle. When she had exclaimed that it was perfect and Steve had signed it _because all artists sign their work, Steeeve!_ He had then carefully torn the page from his sketch book and given it to her.

“Uncle Buck Buck!” she cried with glee, “Look what Steve drew for me!”

Bucky turned around to admire Steve’s work and laughed. “Well done, Steve. You’ve managed to perfectly plagiarize someone else’s work at the direction of a four-year old.”

“I’m five and a half!” Sarah pouted. Steve laughed nervously. He had never heard of Omar Rayyan before, but he had a feeling he’d be well acquainted with his work by the end of the weekend, nevermind the week.

Winnie pulled the car up a long driveway with fields on either side. A large farmhouse towered above them, and a smaller guest house sat down a short path behind it. It looked very similar to the scene Steve had been sketching at the start of the drive.

“Well, here we are,” she said as she put the car into park. “You two are in the guest house. Everything you need should be in there. Let me know if you need any more towels or pillows or anything. Should have more in the main house. You two go get settled and wash up. Dinner is at 6.”

“Thanks Ma,” Bucky pressed a kiss to her cheek before handing Steve his bags and slamming the trunk closed.

“Thank you, Winnie,” Steve said. They started to head for the path round the side of the house but it quickly became apparent that Steve had a shadow. Steve crouched down so that he was at eye level with Sarah. “You should go with your grandma. We’ll see you at dinner, okay?”

“Okay,” she threw her arms around Steve’s neck and hugged him before running into the house after Winnie.

“I told you Sarah’d like you,” Bucky winked.

Steve laughed. “She’s great. But you sort of led me to believe she was an art history major.”

“Believe me, no one knows more about art history than that kid. She’s a fountain of knowledge. She’ll be teaching college courses by the time she hits grade school. At least Rayyan’s work is interesting. The few months when she was obsessed with Raphaelle Peale were the worst. Her favorite piece was this still life of an orange on a bible. She would not shut up about it and it was one of the dullest paintings I’ve ever seen.” Bucky paused for a moment. “Don’t you dare tell her I said that.”

Steve laughed, “I wouldn’t dream of it. I can’t believe you think Peale’s work is _dull_ though! His light work in his still lifes was impeccable, and that was the work he was doing when his abilities were fading along with his health. He’s still considered to be America’s first professional still life painter!”

Bucky just shook his head. “Yeah, you and Sarah will get along fine.” 

Bucky led Steve into the small two-story guesthouse. It was a perfectly contained living space. There was a porch swing on the veranda, and the front door led straight into an open kitchen-dining-room-living-room combo. Off in one corner there was a group of comfy looking chairs and love seats around a fireplace, and a tall bookshelf stocked full of books that had told their stories many times.

They took the stairs up to the second floor. The world’s smallest landing gave way to two doors. Bucky opened the one on the left and Steve walked into a bright and airy bedroom. The room had a robin’s egg blue accent wall that paired perfectly with the dark chocolate brown of the furniture. The bed was covered in a white and blue duvet and the whole room was a beautiful, cozy sanctuary.

Bucky looked at his watch after they’d dropped their bags off and then slumped onto the bed. “We’ve got a few hours to kill. How do you feel about a nap?”

Steve took off his shoes and joined Bucky on the bed. He didn’t realize until after the bed had sunk down under his weight, supporting and cradling his body, just how wiped he was from the day of travel. “I feel good about a nap,” he yawned.

“Good,” Bucky yawned himself, and then kicked his own shoes off. He rolled away from Steve, leaving an entire sea between them and curled up.

Steve could hear his breath deepen and soften and it wasn’t long before he was gone. Steve stayed perfectly still curled on his side. He couldn’t actually drift under, but he didn’t want to toss and turn and risk waking Bucky, so he stared at the back of Bucky’s head, wishing he could press kisses into the nape of his neck and run his fingers through his hair. He was still incredibly apprehensive about how this weekend was going to go, but if he were honest with himself, there was no one he wanted to spend the holidays with more than Bucky.

Steve took a deep breath, wrapped his arms around his pillow to keep himself from reaching out to touch Buck, and then willed himself to at least doze.


	19. Chapter 19

When Bucky woke up Steve was curled tight around his pillow. He thought about pressing a kiss to Steve’s forehead, but he settled for admiring how peaceful he looked deep in slumber. The more he thought about how he’d handled his last date with Steve the more he kicked himself for not just texting him and pretending nothing had happened. He didn’t know how to navigate the current situation at all. And now that _he_ was the client, he didn’t feel like it was his place to steer the relationship. It had been months since he’d heard from Steve, so it was unlikely he still felt the same way he had, and Bucky had to spend a whole week holed up in Shelbyville with him, so he was going to do his best to not embarrass himself and make the whole trip awkward. He rolled out of bed without running a hand through Steve’s hair or down his arm, determined to let Steve call the shots. He’d take the small touches when he got them, he’d savour them, and he wouldn’t ask for more.

Taking advantage of the time to himself Buck decided to grab a quick shower. He took a few moments under the water’s onslaught to roughly stroke himself to completion. He needed to take the edge off the urge to press Steve against the wall or into the mattress or he wouldn’t make it through supper. He did his best to picture his last client on her knees, sucking and moaning around his dick, but the petite brunette kept morphing into a large blond with perfect tits and by the time Bucky’d come over his hand with a stifled gasp he was sure this week was going to kill him.

*

The main house was a bustle of activity when Steve and Bucky eventually made their way over. Bucky had bee-lined for the fridge best he could, greeting, hugging, and introducing his relatives to Steve along the way.

Bucky’s eyes crinkled in the corners as they approached an elderly man in the entrance of the kitchen. “Pappy,” Bucky greeted him with a hug and kiss on the cheek, “This is Steve.”

The old man looked from Steve back to Bucky, who was holding Steve’s hand tightly in his own, and he smiled fondly. He pulled Steve into a hug more fierce than Steve had expected from such a fragile looking man, and give him a rough kiss on the cheek. “Nice to meet you, son.”

“You too, Mr. Barnes.” Steve saw the relief painted across Bucky’s face, and couldn’t help but notice how much Bucky resembled his grandfather. It was the eyes. Grey but warm and kind.

Once Bucky finally made it to the heart of the kitchen where his mom was slaving over a large pot of tomato sauce, he dipped a finger into the pot, ignoring the fact that it was bubbling gently, and tasted it before giving his mom a kiss on the cheek.

“Needs more garlic,” he chastised with a smile as he snuck into the fridge to grab a couple beers.

“You think everything needs more garlic, get outta here,” she laughed, swatting at him with a dish towel.

“Yes ma’am,” he mock saluted as he handed Steve a bottle. “C’mon,” he motioned for Steve to follow him, “We still haven’t run into my sisters.”

Steve took a sip of his beer as he followed Bucky through the house. There were people everywhere. It was a little overwhelming in comparison to the tiny family gatherings his family had. The Barneses seemed to keep everyone, too. Bucky had been explaining that even though the centre of the clan was from his dad’s side, his mom’s side of the family had been adopted in as well. And even after her sister had gotten a divorce, her ex-husband, his new wife, and their children were still a permanent fixture at the family gatherings. Steve was a little surprised that this wasn’t just a recipe for endless drama, though with the amount of dread Bucky had had about going home for Christmas, maybe it was.

This was unheard of in his family. Steve didn’t know how many Rogerses continued to gather for the holidays. After his Ma died, he couldn’t face going home to see the rest of his family. He still made a point of visiting his aunt and cousins once a year, and he appreciated that they still sent him a Christmas card with an annual update of how they’re doing, but his dad had died when he was young, followed closely by his grandparents, and when Ma went too he just accepted that he was alone in the world and faced the holidays by himself. It was easier than pretending to be happy around the people he shared blood with but barely knew.

Sarah ran past to greet a relative she was thrilled to be reunited with and Steve smiled at her unbridled enthusiasm. Maybe if he’d had a sibling who’d had children _Uncle_ Steve would have stayed more connected with the rest of the Rogerses. But that wasn’t how it had played out.

A loud voice boomed out behind them and Steve watched Bucky turn towards the sound as his face paled. “Where’s that fiery piece of ass you usually bring home with you?”

As he spun in turn Steve was totally taken aback by this man’s demeanour and approach. He was faced with a large oaf who looked like he probably had pebbles where neurons should be. He watched Bucky clench and unclench his jaw and take a sip of his beer before responding.

“Natasha and I broke up. She’s not here,” Bucky stated evenly.

 _Christ_. _Fiery piece of ass??_ That’s how this guy spoke about the woman he thought to be Bucky’s girlfriend? Steve and this guy were going to have a problem.

“Ah, too bad. I’m really going to miss knocking things off the table for her to pick up.” The man took a swig of his own drink. “Didn’t have anyone special to bring home this year? I guess you can’t really date up from that, can you?” he laughed again.

“Actually I did bring someone special home,” Bucky said from between clenched teeth. “Uncle Don, this is Steve.”

Steve should have guessed they were talking to Uncle Don. Bucky was already glaring daggers at this guy, so Steve went for a disarming smile and extended his hand for Don to shake.

He didn’t take it. Instead he narrowed his eyes, took a swig of his beer, looked Steve up and down and then turned back to Bucky. “Makes sense you’re a faggot now. Once you’ve fucked the tightest girl in town I guess there’s nowhere else to go.”

Steve was _stunned_. The casual ease at which this guy tossed derogatory terms around forced Steve’s brain to do a hard reboot, and he was left standing there with his hand extended and his jaw hanging lax.

“Just remember there are _children_ here and you’re not under your own roof,” Don said while looking at Steve. For half a moment, Steve thought Don might spit in his face. Instead, Don took another swig of his beer, turned, and walked away.

Bucky ground his teeth together before tipping his bottle back and emptying the last few swallows. “Well that went better than expected. I need another. You?”

*

At dinner, Steve and Bucky sat as far away from Don as was physically possible. With twenty people gathered around the table, it put enough space between them that they could almost pretend he wasn’t there at all. The evening was going smoothly enough. Steve had had his fill of pasta and Caesar salad and he and Bucky had started a subtle drinking game where they emptied their wine glasses every time Becca hijacked an otherwise unrelated conversation and turned it into wedding-planning talk. Steve was finally feeling relaxed, both with Bucky’s family and with Bucky himself.

It was getting late and Steve was still a bit tired from the travel and from meeting so many new people. Steve leaned into Bucky’s space and whispered quietly into his ear, “I’m wiped, can we turn in soon?”

Bucky turned his head and caught Steve’s lips in a small, but not chaste kiss. Steve blushed, but went with it. His mind started to reel and he forced himself to stop thinking. Whether it was just for show, the wine going to Bucky’s head, or an honest desire to kiss him, he wasn’t going to over analyze it to hell and back at the dining room table. Bucky pulled back from the kiss and started to thank Winnie for dinner and excuse themselves for the night when Steve felt a little tug at his elbow. He looked down to see Sarah’s big brown eyes filling with tears. Steve’s eyebrows instantly furrowed in concern.

He leant down so he was at eye level with her and they could converse quietly at the edge of the table, “What’s up, Kiddo?”

She was so upset she almost couldn’t keep herself together long enough to get a sentence out. She was barely audible, “Un- Un- Uncle D- Don ssssaid you and Uncle Buck Buck are going to-” she hiccoughed and then threw her hands over her mouth like she couldn’t say the last word.

Between her whisper and little choking sobs, Steve couldn’t understand a word of what she was saying. “I can’t hear you, sweetheart, what?”

She swallowed hard and tried again. “Unc- Uncle Don said you and Un- Uncle Buck Buck are going to-” she paused again, but after a breath she finished the sentence with a loud wail, “Helllllll.” She was beside herself, and her sobbing resumed, tears and snot mingling on her face and running onto her dress.

Everyone was staring at them now. Steve could feel his anger boiling up under his skin. If he didn’t have a distraught toddler begging him for an explanation, his first instinct would have been to cross the room and punch Don in the face. But the kid was nearly hyperventilating and the tears weren’t stopping, and Steve still had to spend an entire week with Bucky’s family, so maybe punching one of them on his first night wasn’t the way to go. Instead he grabbed his napkin from his lap and started to dab at Sarah’s cheeks and nose.

Winnie was staring at Don with disbelief painted across her face, “Why would you say something like that to her, Don?”

Don raised his beer bottle like he’d done everyone a great favour, “Just giving the kid the facts. Faggots go to Hell, and what you got there is some full-blown faggots.” Winnie shook her head but before she had a chance to respond Steve returned his attention to Sarah.

“No one’s going to Hell, Sarah. I’m going to tell you a secret, okay?” Steve gave her a small smile and reassuring eyes.  “Okay,” she hiccoughed. Steve was just relieved to see the tears had stopped. He finished wiping her face up and got her to blow her nose into his napkin.

“Hell isn’t real,” he whispered. “It’s a thing adults made up to get kids to be good,” he bopped her gently on the nose with his finger. “But you can’t tell anyone you know it’s not real,” he held a finger up to his lips.

Her eyes went wide. She put her own finger to her lips to seal their secret. “Okay,” she whispered.

“Alright, Kiddo. We’re heading to bed. We’ll see you in the morning, okay?”

She sniffed loudly and nodded. He kissed the top of her head and ruffled her hair, sent her back to sit with Bucky’s sister Josie, and turned back to see the rest of the family arguing loudly.

Bucky’s face was pale, and his eyes were darting from family member to family member, not knowing whom to focus on as voices rose and tempers flared. Steve instinctively reached for his hand. He gave it a gentle squeeze and Bucky’s eyes found his in a heartbeat.

“C’mon, Buck. Let’s go to bed.”

“But-”

“Don will still be an ass in the morning, I promise.”

Bucky almost laughed. It sounded more like a cough, but he squeezed Steve’s hand back before getting up from the table and leading Steve back to the guesthouse without saying goodnight to anyone.


	20. Chapter 20

When Bucky woke up before dawn the next day he tried to piece together exactly how the evening had fallen apart at the end. He’d let the wine and having Steve’s breath hot in his ear get to his head, and he’d kissed Steve against what would have been better judgment if he’d had any. And then Don had said something to Sarah that made her sob – he had never seen the kid cry like that before, not even the time she’d fallen off the monkey bars and chipped her tooth – and chaos had erupted around him. Anyone who had been under the delusion that Steve was there as a friend who’d been invited along so he didn’t have to face orphan Christmas somewhere else, and not as Bucky’s date, had their hopes dashed by the kiss and it seemed that the entire family had taken sides in less than a split second. Bucky could remember hearing splintered sentences coming from all around him. _I had no idea he was gay. Was Natasha a beard?_ _It’s none of your goddamn business._ _I’m fine with it I just thought they’d have the decency not to flaunt it in front of anyone._

Steve had been the only thing that had yanked him out of sitting there in silence, a mixture of shame and humiliation and dread roiling in his stomach. _Steve_.

Bucky looked over to see Steve still curled up around a pillow on his side of the bed. The covers were coiled around Steve’s legs and his bare arms were exposed to the chilly morning air. Bucky yanked the covers up over Steve’s shoulder and tucked him in before getting out of bed and padding across the room to the washroom.

The room was reeling a little, the usual byproduct of drinking a bottle of wine and then some over the course of an evening. He sat on the toilet with his face in his hands as the memory of getting back to the suite and promptly vomiting from the stress of it all came rushing back to him. _That’d explain why it tastes like an animal died in my mouth_ , he thought. He had a vague recollection of Steve rubbing his back and helping him to bed and god, he already owed Steve far more than Nat was paying him. Even for just calming Sarah down, however the hell he’d managed that.

Bucky flushed the toilet and washed his hands before splashing some water on his face and patting it dry with the hand towel. He gave his teeth a quick brushing, mostly just to swirl the minty paste around with his tongue and get the taste of stale booze and vomit out of his mouth. He looked down as he only just realized he was still in his clothes from the previous night. Well at least he didn’t have to wonder about whether anything _else_ had happened last night.

He dug his pyjama pants and an old tee out of his bag and got changed before crawling back into bed. As the bed sunk under Bucky’s weight, Steve rolled towards him in his sleep and snuggled into his side, head on Bucky’s shoulder and an arm tossed across his middle. Bucky wrapped an arm around Steve, pressed a small kiss to his forehead, and held him close as he tried to fall back asleep instead of just imagining all the ways breakfast was going to be twelve different nightmares.


	21. Chapter 21

Bucky had imagined slinking into the main house, but Steve had pressed a kiss to his cheek, grabbed his hand, and dragged him through the door with head held high and shoulders thrown wide, chest open and proud. Bucky tried to mirror him, but he felt like he still came off shamed and reserved in comparison. His eyes darted around the room as they entered. Steve squeezed his hand reassuringly, only dropping it when Ma came over to wrap Bucky up in a large embrace.

“Sorry about Don, Buck. The family was up in arms before we realized you and Steve had snuck out. Did you have a good sleep?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Bucky accepted the kiss she pressed to his temple.

She took his face in both her hands, “You okay, love? You say the word and I will tell that man to eat by himself in the living room.”

Bucky smiled a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Don’t do that, Ma. The last thing I want is to create a fuss.”

“I know, dear,” she smiled and pulled his face in so she could place a kiss on his forehead. “Alright, breakfast is nearly ready. Carry the bacon and orange juice out with you, will ya?”

Bucky swiped a crispy corner of bacon off the top of the plate and tossed it in his mouth before Winnie could swat his hand away and gave her the first full smile he’d had all morning, eyes lighting up as he got away with cheek.

“And how are you, Steve?” she wrapped Steve in a warm embrace, concern in her eyes. “I want you to know you are so welcome here. Don doesn’t speak for all of us.”

“I know. Thank you,” Steve looked for a moment like he was going to need Buck to save him from his mother, but then Steve gestured at the stack of pancakes going cold on the stove. “Can I take these out for you?”

*

Being the bringer of bacon meant Bucky couldn’t arrive quietly and slip unnoticed into his seat. But it did mean that everyone greeted him with enthusiasm. He handed the plate off to Sarah who looked like she was going to leap out of her seat and on to the table if he placed it anywhere but in her hands, then cleared a space for Steve to put the pancakes down before pulling Steve’s chair out for him at the crowded table. Winnie took her seat next to Bucky a moment later, after offloading a selection of jams and syrups on to the table.

Bucky couldn’t help but notice one of the seats was empty. He tried to pay it no mind as he heaped pancakes and bacon onto his plate and poured Steve a mug of coffee.

But the seat stayed empty for the duration of breakfast. And as he passed his mom the cream for her refill of coffee he whispered, “You didn’t ask Don not to come to breakfast, did you?” He really didn’t want a fuss made, and he didn’t want to give Don any extra reasons to be upset with him.

“Of course not. If Don isn’t here it’s because Don chose not to be. Or he just overslept. I don’t know if you saw just how many beers he put away last night. Pass the sugar?”

Bucky couldn’t tell if he was imagining it or not, but it felt like he was getting disapproving side eye from one of his aunts and cousins at the other end of the table. Just as he was darting his eyes to see if he could confirm his suspicions, he felt Steve’s hand on his knee under the table. Steve gave a firm squeeze and left his hand there, warm and heavy. Grounding.

It helped. If nothing else, it distracted him from everything else that was happening in the room. Bucky watched Steve lean across him to thank his mother for breakfast and offer to help clean up. His bright blue eyes shone in the sunlight that trickled in from between airy curtains, and lit up when he laughed at something she said. And then the point of contact was gone as Steve excused himself from the table to help clean up, not taking no for an answer. And Bucky was surprised to find himself feeling naked and exposed without Steve there. A sharp laugh came from the other side of the table, and it felt like it was at his expense regardless of whether that was true or not. Bucky drained his mug before pushing his seat back and excusing himself, carrying a stack of dishes into the kitchen after Steve.

Bucky loaded the dishwasher in silence while Steve and Winnie bustled around him, collecting the rest of the dishes that needed to be loaded or handwashed in a heap near the sink. Steve had started to fill the sink with hot, soapy water when Winnie tried to convince him to let her do the dishes. Steve looked between Winnie and the pile of dirty mixing bowls, pans and spatulas and laughed. He urged her to go have another mug of coffee and put her feet up. She tried to insist, but he planted his feet where he stood and told her with a comical twinkle in his eye that if she wanted to do the dishes that badly she would need to move him herself. She finally resigned with a laugh and refreshed her cup from a fresh pot before heading out to the living room.

“You okay?” Steve was wrist-deep in sudsy water, a washcloth scrubbing batter from a bowl as he read Bucky’s face.

Bucky sighed as he stacked the last of the glasses in place in the dishwasher. “Yeah, I’m alright.” Steve looked like he didn’t believe him, but he didn’t question him further. “Okay, fine,” Bucky continued, “I’m not alright. I want to go home. I don’t want to spend Christmas around a bunch of bigots giving me side-eye and whispering about me behind my back. And, why are you even still here?! They’re _my_ family and I don’t even want to be here.”

Steve rinsed the bowl and placed it in the drying rack. “You don’t mean that. And they’re not all bigots. Your sisters are lovely. You were right that Ida is a riot. Your grandfather hasn’t batted an eye. And Sarah’s a little firecracker. Don’t let Don ruin your Christmas.”

Bucky picked up a drying cloth and the bowl Steve had now finished with. “I just don’t want to see any of them right now.” He opened the cupboard to put the dish away before picking up the next mixing bowl from the drying rack. “Why _are_ you still here though? I’m stuck with them; you don’t have to put up with this.”

Steve scrubbed the pan he was working on in silence for a few moments before shrugging his shoulders, “It’s a job. I’m not a quitter.” He gave a small, almost bitter sounding laugh, “Besides, it’s not like I have anywhere else to be.”

Bucky took the pan from him and toweled it off. “Right.” He didn’t know what answer he was hoping for from Steve, but somehow _It’s a job_ , wasn’t it. _It’s a job,_ left a small hollow pit in his stomach. But it was a necessary reminder of what this was. Nat was paying Steve to be here, and so here he was.

Steve rinsed off a handful of utensils before placing them in the rack, “So what’s the plan for today?”

“I don’t know,” Bucky shrugged. “I was kinda thinking of just hiding out in the guest house with a book or something.”

Steve looked at him as he drained the sink. “Do you want company? Or do you want to be alone?”

Bucky almost laughed at the absurdity of Steve thinking for even a minute that he’d throw Steve to the wolves while hiding out in their room. “Company would be nice,” he smiled.

Steve looked at him coyly from beneath his thick, dark lashes. “I have an idea of how we could spend the afternoon,” his lashes fluttered ever so slightly as his cheeks flushed pink.

Bucky could feel his blood rushing to his groin instantly. But it was mixed with a touch of doubt. He wasn’t used to being on _this_ side of the exchange. It wasn’t until Steve’s cheeks started to turn from pink to a deep red and he started stammering that Bucky realized he was just standing there with his jaw slightly agape.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to,” Steve backpedaled. He rinsed the suds out of the bottom of the sink and avoided Bucky’s gaze. “I have my sketchbook, I can entertain myself.”

Bucky crowded Steve against the sink. He pressed his hips to Steve’s just enough that Steve could feel the outline of him before turning Steve around by his waist and pulling him in for a kiss. “I want to,” he ground his hips against Steve’s and caught his lower lip between his teeth. “C’mon, the kitchen’s clean,” he grabbed Steve, all pink-faced and wide-eyed, by the hand and led him towards the guesthouse.

*

Bucky barely had the door shut behind them before Steve had him pressed against it. Steve’s lips were on his neck, hands fumbling with his belt, and Bucky’s brain was full of questions that threatened to spill out. As Steve sank to his knees, pulling Bucky’s jeans and boxers as he went, he desperately wanted to ask if Steve was doing this because he wanted to or because he was being paid to.

_You would never answer that if a client asked you. Don’t you dare ask that._

So he swallowed the question as Steve swallowed him down. He knocked the back of his head against the wall as Steve pulled tiny moans from him. Steve’s mouth felt so good, he’d nearly quieted all the noise in his brain. Nearly.

He wove his fingers through Steve’s hair intending to pull Steve off of him and ask if they could trade spots. Bucky wasn’t used to being blown by people who weren’t paying to blow him, and even then he was far more comfortable on his knees. But Steve grabbed Bucky’s other hand to guide his fingers into his hair and didn’t remove his hands from Bucky’s until Bucky had tightened his grip. Steve’s hands moved to Bucky’s hips, gentle encouragement for him to fuck Steve’s mouth. He looked up at him, blue eyes barely visible through thick lashes, and Bucky couldn’t take how hot he looked on his knees, mouth wrapped around his girth. He worked his fingers into Steve’s hair and slowly began to thrust into him. He moved slowly and smoothly, pressing deeper into his mouth with each thrust until the head of his cock pressed against the back of Steve’s throat. Steve gagged a little as his throat fluttered around Buck.

Bucky’s eyes shot open, “Are you okay?” He tried to pull himself out of Steve’s mouth so he could answer, but Steve held him in by his hips. Eyes locked to his, Steve slowly slid his lips all the way down his shaft until Bucky was pressed firmly to the back of his throat, and without so much as a blink, Steve swallowed around him in answer before letting Bucky take over again.

“Fuuuuck,” Bucky whispered. He let his eyes flit closed and pressed his head back against the door. He gave a few more thrusts before stilling his hips, “I can’t, I’m going to come-”

Steve held tight to his hips, not giving him any other choice. Bucky fell over the edge with a stifled groan. Steve sucked gently as he pulled off of him, tidying him up and swallowing the mess. “Feeling any better?”

Bucky nodded before leaning his head back against the wall, catching his breath.

“Good.” Steve smiled almost wickedly, “There’s more where that came from.” He got to his feet, took Bucky by the hand and led him to the bed.

As Steve stripped himself out of his own clothes and filled Bucky’s focus, Bucky let the rest of the world melt away.


	22. Chapter 22

Don didn’t say a single word to them until after breakfast on the second morning.

Once the dishes were cleared, he’d grabbed himself a beer and announced loudly that the men would be having their annual afternoon of target practice out back. “You’re welcome to join,” he raised his beer to Steve, “Though you probably don’t enjoy that kind of thing.”

“I’d enjoy nothing more,” Steve smiled.

“Steve, you don’t have to. Really. It’s awful. They get day drunk and shoot at cans. All day.”

“Traditions are important, Buck.” This is what Steve said, but truthfully there was no way he was letting Don spend the day talking about _how_ _faggots are_. Steve was leveling him with the most intense look Bucky had seen on him all weekend. He was serious. Steve was actually going to make him spend the day in the back yard shooting shit with the ‘men’.

Bucky sighed. He got up from the table and made his way to the fridge. “Can I get you a beer then?” he asked as he grabbed a couple bottles from the bottom shelf.

“It’s a little early for that, I think,” Steve laughed.

Bucky levelled him with an equally serious look as he popped the caps off both beers and pressed one into Steve’s hand. “Hey, if you’re going to harp on me about the importance of traditions.” He cheersed Steve’s bottle and took a sip from his own.

Steve shook his head but took a sip.

*

They followed the rest of the guys into the back yard. There were only 3 pellet guns, so a handful of them stood around chatting while they took turns shooting at cans set up on a log.

Steve and Bucky sat back while Don set up the cans and Steve and one of Bucky’s cousins took the first turns shooting them back down. Bucky was standing behind Steve, offering him pointers. He had his hips barely grazing Steve’s ass, arms around his showing him how to hold the gun.

“You wanna hold it like this, yeah, drop that shoulder a little, and sight it here. And then just pull the trigger, real easy.” Bucky helped aim the gun for him and fire a few rounds. They hit one of the cans with the third shot. He was a little caught up in how Steve’s deodorant mingled with his own smell, and he knew he should probably take a step back and let Steve try it on his own, but he just smelled so damn good. Once they hit a can after another few shots, Bucky stepped back. “Alright, give it a go.”

Steve lifted the gun back into place, dropped his shoulder, and hit both remaining cans clean off the log.

“Like that?” Steve turned to give Bucky a tiny smile over his shoulder, only a trace of smugness there.

Bucky had to pick his jaw up off the ground.

“What? You think I didn’t have a childhood?” Steve waited until everyone else had finished shooting before going to set the cans back up and cleanly shooting all three back down in as many shots. When Don and Bucky’s cousin just stood there with stunned looks on their faces, Steve shot down their cans from where he stood.

“Never seen a faggot shoot before?” Steve asked, with absolutely no bitterness or malice in his voice. Bucky wanted to go over to him, grab him by his face and just _kiss_ him. But that maybe wasn’t the safest idea while there was a pellet gun still in Don’s hands.

He _did_ give Steve a wide, dopey, toothy grin.

Steve passed off his gun to one of the other stunned looking guys and came to stand next to Bucky so the two of them could watch them take shots at unmoving cans.

“Jesus,” Bucky whispered lacing his hand in Steve’s. “That was _something_.” Don wasn’t looking, so he moved in for the smallest kiss, just the barest interlocking of lips before jabbing his elbow in Steve’s ribs. “You didn’t have to let me look like an asshole, giving you _pointers_ , Christ.”

Steve laughed. The first full laugh Bucky had seen out of him on the trip; he really threw his head back and _laughed_. It made Bucky want to kiss him again. This was starting to be a problem.

“And what? Ask you to not stand so close to me? Why would I do that?” Steve’s eyes twinkled, and Bucky wanted to close the distance between them, press him up against the side of the house and wipe that smirk off his face and give him something else to smile about. Bucky was just about to decrease the space between them when he felt a tug at his elbow. He looked down to see Sarah standing there looking up at him with her big eyes.

“Hey Kiddo? What are you doing out here?”

“Can I play, Uncle Buck Buck?”

Bucky took a sip of his beer as he considered. She was still a little young, but there was no harm in teaching her some gun safety and letting her fire off a few rounds with supervision. He was about to open his mouth to say as much when Don spotted her.

“What are you doing out here, Sarah? Go back inside with the ladies. The men are being men out here.”

That did it. Bucky caught Steve’s eyes before rolling his own. He had half a mind to put down his beer and teach Sarah how to shoot himself. But before he could do anything Steve had shoved his beer into Bucky’s hand and relieved Don of his gun.

“What on _earth_ , Steve?!” Don was getting red in the face and looked like he was thinking of actually hitting Steve.

Steve looked Don dead in the eye and said evenly, “She’s interested in learning to shoot. I’m going to teach her to shoot.” Everything about his posture looked like he was almost begging Don to hit him. His feet held his ground, legs splayed a little wider than hip distance. Bucky didn’t think he’d ever appreciated just how much _space_ Steve took up. He almost made Don look small. Don would have to be crazy to start something, but Bucky almost wished he would. They held each other’s gaze for a beat longer, Steve breathing evenly, Don puffing his chest out, before Steve turned his back on Don and knelt down to be at eye-level with Sarah.

“First, we’re not _playing_. We’re shooting, and guns are not _toys_. Do you understand?” The girl nodded solemnly, wide eyes drinking in every word Steve said.

“There are some very important rules when we’re handling guns. We never ever ever look down the barrel of our gun or point it at ourselves, and we never ever point it at someone else. No matter how much we might want to.”

Bucky snorted into his beer.

“This is serious, Buck!” Steve turned back to Sarah, “Do you understand?”

Sarah blinked and then nodded. Bucky could see the kid already loved Steve. She had the same look to her she had when she followed him around. That kid would follow Steve off the edge of the earth. And he couldn’t really blame her. Steve just seemed to have that effect on people.

Bucky took another sip of his beer as he listened to Sarah recite back the rules and then Steve helped her wrap her little hands around the grip and showed her where to put her trigger finger. He lined up the shot for her and encouraged her to pull the trigger tight to fire the gun. It took all of her might to squeeze the trigger down and Steve had to hold the gun in position for her, but between the two of them they still managed to hit the edge of the can, even if it didn’t teeter off the log.

“Good work, kiddo!” Steve ruffled her hair. They took a few more shots together, and one of the cans finally surrendered.

“Did you see that, Uncle Buck Buck?! Did you see that?!” Sarah and Steve both turned back to beam at Buck who was sipping his beer and smiling at them.

“Where’d everyone else go?” Steve asked.

Bucky grinned. “First faggots, and now _girls_ out-shooting them? The rest of them decided the afternoon had been spoiled and have moved on to getting properly day drunk and watching football.” He laughed, “There’s a slight chance you may have actually killed this tradition, and if you have I’ll love you forever.”

The second the word was out of his mouth, Bucky wished he could take it back. He could feel his face get hot, and he took a swig of his beer and prayed maybe Steve hadn’t heard him. When he realized he’d said it in front of Sarah, he prayed even harder that she hadn’t caught it, that she wouldn’t hold on to it and repeat it for the rest of the week.

But thankfully Steve had turned back to pay attention to Sarah who wanted to shoot the cans down one more time before they went in to draw. Bucky hoped he was imagining the backs of Steve’s ears to be redder than usual. If Steve had noticed it though, he didn’t say anything.

They packed up everything that had been brought outside, including all the empty beer cans and bottles the others had deserted, and headed in to the main house to grab sketchpads, pencils, and crayons. Bucky headed back to the guest house to grab his book. He took time to splash water on his face, leaning against the sink staring at his reflection for a moment.

“Get yourself together, Barnes. You’re a _client_. Get it together.”

Steve’s sketchbook was on the bedside table, so Bucky grabbed that for him. When he returned to the main house, Steve and Sarah were sitting together in the porch swing. Sarah had abandoned the crayons for the more adult pencil and was watching Steve closely as he demonstrated how he started a sketch.

“Trees are pretty easy,” he said as his hand moved slowly and surely across the page so she could see his work. “You start with a couple lines, and then the rest of it is up to you. Everyone’s trees look different, so your way of drawing them is the right way. I can’t wait to see what your trees look like.” He handed the drawing pad off to her so she could draw her trees next to his.

She worked slowly and methodically, her little tongue sticking out between teeth in focus. Steve thanked Bucky for his sketchbook, and flipped it open to a new page as Buck made himself comfortable on one of the porch steps. It gave him a good backrest against the main post, and an armrest along a higher step. He flipped open his book to where he’d left off and settled in, a little bit of him hoping Steve was sketching him and not just the oaks littered across the property.


	23. Chapter 23

The rest of the week was surprisingly enjoyable. The days passed easily. Don and Bucky avoided each other as much as was humanly possible, and Bucky’s favorite afternoons were spent in close quarters with Steve while he sketched with Sarah. December 23rd found Steve tucked under Bucky’s arm on the sofa. Bucky’s book was open, but it might as well have been upside down for how much reading he was doing. Instead he was watching Steve work. He was drawing Sarah as she napped across her sketchbook on the floor by the fireplace, and Bucky was captivated by how Steve’s rough hand moved across the paper and left behind soft curls and chubby cheeked accuracy.

He squeezed Steve’s shoulder gently, rubbing his hand along Steve’s arm. “You really manage to capture her. Can I have that one when you’re done?”

Steve gave him a small smile. “Sure.”

It was a rare quiet moment, the two of them alone in the main house. The guys were playing football out back, and they’d been relieved when Bucky and Steve had opted not to join them. Bucky had laughed, joking that he didn’t think they could take being shown up at a single other ‘man’ event this week. Becca had abandoned her wedding invitations on the coffee table to help with dinner, though they could still hear her going on about seating arrangements and asking whether Pappy thought it was bad form for her to sit two halves of a divorced couple at the same table with their new spouses even though they still shared the same circle of friends.

Steve didn’t look up from his work, “So Natasha sent me with a couple gift options for you.”

“Oh?” Bucky flipped the page of his book, feigning disinterest.

“Yeah. She didn’t give me any instructions, so I couldn’t tell if one of them was a joke or not. There’s a jacket and a ring. It’s up to you what I ‘surprise’ you with Christmas morning.”

_Fuck, Nat. Really?_

Bucky laughed, but it came out a little dry and he choked on it. He swallowed hard to recover and found his mouth was dry. “The ring’s a bit much, I think. Just the jacket will do.” He was surprised by the swell of disappointment that crashed over him when he got those words out. “Bit soon for a ring, don’t you think?” he laughed and was relieved it passed a little closer to normal.

Steve laughed, “Yeah, I was surprised when I saw what she’d packed for me.”

“Shit, Steve,” Bucky put his book down. “I didn’t bring a Christmas gift for you. Nat didn’t prep me nearly as well as she prepped you, and honestly, if I’d packed something myself I was expecting my date to be, well, more _female._ ”

Steve laughed as he shaded in Sarah’s dress. “Nat covered everything. There’s a set of Haynes shirts giftwrapped for me from you. My size and everything. She did good.”

Bucky shook his head, “She really does think of everything.”

*

Ma had outdone herself for dinner once again. There was a ham, hand glazed, with corn and scalloped potatoes on the side. The wine was pouring and the house was warm and full of stuffed stomachs and raucous laughter.

Bucky was listening to Becca talk about flower arrangements and exactly how they had narrowed all the choices down to white lilies. Her fiancé, Scott was doing a better job of appearing fully engaged in the conversation than he was, and Bucky loved him for it. Bucky was 90% sure this was the purpose of year-long engagements and wedding planning. If you still wanted to marry someone after listening to them talk about seating arrangements and the perfect Save-the-Date cardstock for an entire year, if you could deal with the stress and the arguments, then your marriage probably stood a chance. Hell, there was probably some correlation between shared enthusiasm for flower arrangements and colour coordination and successful marriages. Scott was still looking at Becca like she’d hung the moon and was nodding along enthusiastically when she said that they’d initially thought they’d go with red roses, but between the cost and how much they overpowered the grey of the suits they eventually settled on white lilies.

Between Becca and the wine, Bucky was half asleep when Steve pushed his chair away from the table and stood up. Bucky was awake in a heartbeat. Steve was clenching and unfurling his fists, his jaw twitching. “Tell me what on earth any of that has to do with you, Don! I’m serious! Enlighten me! Why shouldn’t gay couples be able to get married? And seeing how you’re _not_ married, I don’t see how marriage at all is any of your goddamn business!”

Don stood up so fast his chair fell over. “You’re ruining this goddamn country! You’re an abomination! It’s your choice to live in sin but you shouldn’t be allowed to parade around in front of our young’ns,” he waved at Sarah and the other children, “And have a _religious ceremony_ to legitimize your beastiality.”

Everyone had fallen silent around the table. All eyes were on Steve and Don.

“ _Beastiality?!_ ” Steve was _shaking_ with rage.

“You prefer a different word? Sodomy? Whatever you want to call it, it’s fucking _gross._ ” Don spat the words out with contempt.

For half a second, Bucky thought Steve might actually lunge at Don and throw himself across the table at him. He stood up and got between Steve and the table in one motion.

“It’s _none of your business,_ and it has _absolutely no effect on you_!” Steve yelled over Bucky’s shoulder.

Don seated himself back down at the table. “Well the conversation you so rudely butt into was none of _your_ business, and yet here we are,” he took a swig of his beer and watched smugly as Bucky dragged Steve from the room.

“Steve,” Bucky had pulled him into the kitchen. Steve was still fighting back, trying to pull away and get back into the dining room. Bucky pinned him against the fridge, _“Steve!_ Let it go.”

Steve’s body went limp against Bucky’s hold on him as he stopped fighting him. “I’m sorry, Buck,” Steve said quietly. “Someone says something like that and I just can’t turn a blind eye, I have to do something. I’m sorry. I made a scene, I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s fine,” Bucky was rubbing Steve’s shoulders with his palms. Steve looked like he might fall to the floor with shame if Bucky weren’t holding him in place. “You don’t let anyone get away with anything, it’s one of,” _my favorite things about you,_ “Your best characteristics. But he’s not worth it.” Bucky was only just now noticing how the volume in the other room had returned to normal. No residual outrage; just normal conversing and laughter.

Now Bucky’s blood was boiling. How could his family have watched that exchange and then let everything just simmer down to normal? Where was the protective outrage against Don while Bucky and Steve weren’t there to stand up for themselves?

“I don’t want to go back in there,” Bucky said. “I _do_ want to show you my appreciation for standing up to Don,” he palmed at Steve’s dick through his jeans, feeling it come to life beneath the pressure. He grabbed Steve by the hand and led him back to the guesthouse.

Bucky was still fuming as they shut the door to their room. They were pushing each other around with more ferocity than was strictly necessary, taking out their anger on each other. A hard shove against the wall here, a sharp nip of teeth against soft earlobe flesh there. They were stripping each other out of their clothes, only barely getting them off whole, when Bucky made up his mind.

“Fuck it. Fuck them. You’re giving me that ring Christmas morning.”

Steve moaned his agreement as Bucky spread his cheeks and began to work him open with his tongue.


	24. Chapter 24

Bucky and Steve had agreed that Christmas Eve was theirs. Neither of them really wanted to see the rest of the family after what had transpired the previous night. They had to have dinner with the rest of the group, obviously, but they could stay holed up in the guest house for the rest of the day.

When Bucky woke up, the argument was the first thing that came back to him, followed shortly by small snippets of the sex that had followed. It had been rough and angry; the two of them taking out their shared frustrations on each other. Bucky had barely had Steve ready, wasn’t sure he had him prepped enough, when Steve was begging him to fuck him hard and fast into the mattress and Bucky’d obliged.

The two of them had been covered in come and sweat long before the choking and the biting and the shoving had melted into hand holding and soft kisses that lingered. Steve’s begging for _harder, faster, you can do better than that,_ had turned into breathy moans and stilted _please please please_ s, and Bucky had helped Steve up off his knees and turned him onto his back so he could press kisses to his forehead and cheeks and collarbone while feeling him tense and shiver around him.

The snippets were coming back to Bucky in split-second memory freeze frames: Steve gazing up at him from beneath droopy eyelids; Steve looking at him, eyes full of trust and adoration; the noises Steve had made when he was on the edge; the noises Steve pulled from him when Steve pulled him over with him. It was enough to have Bucky half-hard before he had fully shaken his slumber.

Steve must have noticed, because he wriggled back against him, closing the distance between them. Bucky looped his arm around Steve’s chest and pulled him in close, grinding up against him. He let his hand wander, caressing Steve’s pecs, the soft skin along his ribs and down his torso, up over the curve of his hips and down his thigh. Bucky traced back up the inside of Steve’s leg, teasing contact over his hardening cock, up over his stomach, and back down with firmer pressure. Steve let out a soft sigh when Bucky finally wrapped a hand around him and started to stroke him slowly.

Bucky pressed kisses into Steve’s shoulder blade as he worked him, slow and gentle at first, speeding up as Steve’s breathing became more ragged between the little keening noises he was making, until he could see Steve’s brows stitching together in concentration.

“Yeah, that’s it,” Bucky whispered. He pressed his lips to Steve’s skin again, twisting his wrist as his hand moved along Steve’s cock. _Fuck_ , the _noises_ Steve was making were going straight to his own dick. But he could tell from the almost seamless chain of _unh-unh-unh_ s that Steve was close. So close.

It wasn’t long until Steve was spending himself hot into Bucky’s hand. Buck eased up the friction as he brought a finger to Steve’s entrance and slowly started to work him open. Once Steve was moaning into his pillow and hard again in Bucky’s fist, Bucky slid home and fucked him slow and gentle as the sun streamed in through the window. They spent the rest of the day like that, sharing kisses and trading pleasure, only pausing long enough to take a quick shower or have a small snack before one of them dragged the other back beneath the covers. 


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my Lovelies,
> 
> We're getting close to the end, and seeing as this is a Christmas story I'm going to have the whole complete thing to you by Christmas as my gift to all of you. So you're getting a chapter or set of chapters every other day or so until Christmas Day.
> 
> I hope you're all enjoying the holidays, no matter which one/s you celebrate.
> 
> Much love to you all,  
> GG <3

Christmas morning arrived like any other, but it always made Bucky’s heart ache because it shouldn’t be like any other regular day. It should feel different and magical, but it had been many, many years since he’d been unable to sleep on Christmas Eve and woken up at the crack of dawn from excitement. He used to get up and shake gifts beneath the tree quietly until his sisters and parents joined him. Josie had always been the last one up, but she had the least patience. The moment she was out of bed, the rest of the house was awoken and made fully aware that CHRISTMAS HAD ARRIVED. Bucky smiled to himself, hoping that Sarah was sitting impatiently beneath the tree shaking presents the way her mom had when she was her age.

“Steve,” he shook Steve awake gently. “Steve, wake up. It’s Christmas.”

Steve groaned, “So what? Unless it snowed, which really would be a Christmas miracle, there is no reason for me to leap out of bed this early.” He pulled the covers up to his neck and rolled away from Bucky.

“But Steve,” Bucky whispered excitedly, “Sarah will be the only one up and she’ll be as excited as we wish we were that it’s Christmas.” He pressed a series of kisses to Steve’s cheek. “C’mon, Steve. Get up!”

Steve groaned, exasperated. “Fine. Fine, I’m getting up. But you are making me the biggest mug of coffee you can.”

*

Steve dropped his armful of wrapped gifts under the tree as Bucky greeted Sarah with a hug. He dragged her away from the gift she was shaking gently next to her ear, and carried her into the kitchen to put on coffee.

“Can I have some?” she asked, bright eyes excited.

“Coffee?” Bucky laughed, “No. But how about hot cocoa?”

“Okay!” she hugged tight around his neck as he bustled around the kitchen.

She eventually came trotting out of the kitchen with a small mug of hot chocolate held carefully so as not to spill. Bucky followed with two cups of coffee in hand. He held one out for Steve to take but didn’t let go of it when Steve went to grab it from him. It made Steve look up at him in tired confusion.

“Hey,” Bucky said when Steve’s eyes found his. “Merry Christmas.” He leaned in and kissed Steve and was pleasantly surprised that Steve kissed back. Not only did he kiss back, Steve wove his fingers into Bucky’s hair to deepen the languid kiss, kissing him back so thoroughly Bucky could feel it in his toes.

There was a tiny cry of, “Ewwwww!” from below them, and when they broke apart Bucky was feeling snappy about it. He couldn’t believe Don had poisoned Sarah in such a short period of time.

“Sarah,” Bucky said very sternly, “There’s nothing gross about two men loving each other.” He tried to ignore that the word had slipped out again, he tried to justify that it was alright to let slip as long as it was used for educational purposes.

“It’s not _that_ , Uncle Buck Buck! _Kissing_ is gross! That’s how you get cooties!” She giggled, “You have Steve’s cooties now!”

Steve laughed. “Wouldn’t want my cooties, now wouldya?” He pulled Bucky into another kiss. “So many cooties!”

Sarah laughed uproariously. “Groooosssssss! Stop it!”

Bucky couldn’t help but laugh. He ruffled her hair and sipped his coffee. “You wanna play crib until the others get up?” he asked her.

Sarah smiled and nodded and slurped up one of the melting marshmallows from on top of her hot chocolate. They invited Steve to play, but he opted to sketch instead. He joked that crib hadn’t been a part of his childhood and they actually would have to teach him, so it’d be better if they had their game without him. Sarah tried to convince him it was really easy and all he had to be able to do was count to 15, but she quickly gave in when he asked her if she’d like him to draw her playing instead. And so they had a few quiet hours before the adults got up. Sarah counting fifteen-two, fifteen-three, fifteen-four, and looking up at Steve shyly, her interest in what he was drawing evident on her face, before Bucky would pull her back to the game showing her the points she’d missed in her hand.

 Bucky looked up from the game at one point and just watched Steve draw for a little bit. This was almost starting to feel normal, sitting together in quiet, enjoying each other’s company while Steve examined the world around him and captured it on paper. Bucky loved the little moments where Steve lost himself entirely to his work. If Bucky could draw, this is how he’d sketch Steve: fully immersed, so caught up in documenting the scene around him exactly as it was that he misses what’s actually happening. The sunlight was cracking through the curtains and lighting up Steve’s hair, drawing attention to the fact that he hadn’t so much as run a hand through it after rolling out of bed this morning, and Bucky couldn’t help but silently acknowledge how beautiful Steve was.

Steve looked up to re-examine some small detail and caught Bucky staring at him. Bucky smiled a small smile and returned to the game, but Steve’s blush didn’t escape him.

*

People eventually rose and trickled into the living room one by one. Quiet hugs and _Merry Christmas_ es were exchanged, fresh cups of coffee were pressed into open hands, and mugs were refilled. Once everyone was awake and had a cup of coffee the present opening began.

Sarah was basically vibrating with excitement by the time she had been bestowed the Santa hat and given the task of making sure everyone had a gift to open before she started to go through her stocking. She excitedly dumped parcels into everyone’s laps before sitting herself cross-legged in front of her own small pile and digging in. The sound of tearing paper filled the air, broken intermittently by Sarah’s squeals of excitement. _Thank you_ s and hugs were exchanged, and the room was warm and the joy tangible.

Once Sarah had finished tearing the wrapping from her toys and had started to open and play with them, Bucky directed her to look under the tree to find the gifts he and Steve had for each other. She dug behind the tree and pulled out a couple of medium-sized boxes that she dutifully presented to Steve and Bucky.

Steve opened his gift first, carefully separating tape from paper, and pulling the lid of the box away to reveal a set of beautiful paint brushes on top of a small pile of shirts. Bucky couldn’t quite get a good look at the brushes, but from the way Steve’s mouth had dropped open a bit, they must be nice ones. They both knew the brushes were Nat’s doing, but the way Steve looked up at Bucky with appreciation in his eyes melted his heart. He made a mental note to thank Nat for doing good and duping them once again.

Bucky looked down at the box in his lap and unwrapped it slowly. He ultimately knew what was coming, but he wasn’t sure how Steve was going to get them there. When he got the box open there was a beautiful double-breasted navy blue jacket inside. Nat had truly outdone herself. He lifted it out of the box. It was thick and heavy and durable feeling. The wool was stiff yet soft in his hands, and he marveled at the fact that even the buttons that sat in parallel lines down the front of it were beautiful.

“Try it on?” Steve’s voice brought him back to himself. Bucky looked up to see Steve’s eyes sparkling at him, and his heart fluttered a little as he unbuttoned the jacket to see how it fit.

Steve closed the space between them, helping him slip it on and button it up. He smoothed down the front of it and stepped back to look at him. “That really is a _gorgeous_ jacket on you.” Steve was looking at Bucky like he wanted to eat him alive and it was making Bucky flush hot in the already warm jacket. Steve closed the space between them to give him a small kiss.

“One more thing,” Steve slipped his hand into one of the front breast pockets before stepping back and carefully lowering himself onto one knee. Bucky wasn’t sure if the room had gone silent or if the blood rushing in his ears was just blocking out the sound, but his heart was in his throat, and he was feeling so stupid for having such a visceral reaction to a _fake_ proposal. _Get yourself together, Bucky._

But Steve smiling up at him with hopeful eyes, a simple band in his fingers, held out in offering, it was suddenly everything Bucky wanted. The tears that sprung to his eyes were all too real. He blinked them back in surprise.

“Bucky,” Steve reached out and took his hand, “You are the greatest person I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing. You’re my favorite model, my favorite way to wake up. I love you. Even when I don’t like you I love you, and I never want to spend a single moment not knowing that I am yours and you are mine. James Buchanan Barnes, will you marry me?”

A single tear spilled over and ran down Bucky’s cheek. He couldn’t find his voice. He clapped a hand over his mouth and just nodded until words finally spilled out of him. “Yes! Of course, yes,” he laughed.

Steve slid the ring onto his finger before getting to his feet. In one motion he wiped the tear from Bucky’s cheek and cradled his face in both hands to pull him into a tender kiss. Bucky thought his heart was going to burst from his chest. The joy he felt was tinted with the sorrow that it wasn’t real. _As much as it felt real. As much as he suddenly wanted it to be real, it wasn’t._ He brushed the thought away and decided to just enjoy this feeling for as long as he could.

He broke away from the kiss and leaned his forehead against Steve’s, a secret smile shared between them. Steve was so much the focus of his entire world at this moment that he hadn’t even noticed Don leave the room with a huff.

As he let the rest of the world back into his view, he noticed the rest of his family were clapping. Some were wiping tears from their eyes. His mother was the first to reach them to offer her congratulations. His Pappy and sisters weren’t far behind, but Sarah was the cause of most of the commotion. She’d abandoned her toys and was dancing around the pair of them chanting “Uncle Steve! Uncle Steve! Can I call you Uncle Steve?!”

Bucky didn’t know what he’d been expecting, but it hadn’t been this. This was joy. This was acceptance. This was love. He looked back to Steve who just smiled and pulled him in for another kiss.  This was the best Christmas Bucky had had in many years.


	26. Chapter 26

The rest of Christmas Day had been a blur of heart-felt congratulations, hugs, and pats on the back. The family as a whole seemed to have reached a silent agreement that if someone had nothing nice to say they would say nothing at all, and for the rest of the afternoon not a single person let something bigoted make it out of their mouth. It would have been an even more impressive milestone if Uncle Don hadn’t holed up by himself with a six-pack, but it was a milestone nonetheless.

The commotion had faded into a low, cheerful din as mugs of coffee were topped up and then wrapping paper gathered and the living room tidied. Steve had done his darnedest to get Winnie to let him help with dinner preparations, but she was just as stubborn as Steve and insisted the newly engaged couple spend the afternoon together and as far away from anything resembling work as was humanly possible.

So the afternoon found Steve snuggled against Bucky on the couch, head resting against his chest. Buck had his arm wrapped around Steve securely as he napped. He was fiddling with the ring on his finger and staring into space. He’d expected it to feel cold and foreign. Weird. Like it had no business being there. But it was warm and comfortable and left him feeling like to take it off would be to remove a piece of himself. He wasn’t looking forward to that at all. Part of him, the delusional part, wondered if there were any chance this wasn’t fake. If there were any chance they could step back into the real world and just keep going. Not go back to how things were. Just pick things up right here, right now and go.

He shook the thought from his mind. That was crazy. He was crazy to think Steve even actually wanted to date him, let alone pick up their lives from a fake engagement and just move forward as if it were real. He pressed a kiss to Steve’s forehead and intertwined their fingers, rubbing small circles against Steve’s hand with his thumb. It pulled a small smile from Steve in his sleep.

All he could do was enjoy the time he had left pretending they were in love with each other and planning to spend their lives together.

This was enough.

He hoped this was enough.


	27. Chapter 27

They had barely had a moment to themselves after waking up from their nap. Christmas Day, though full of hand holding and stolen kisses, had been spent in the main house with the family. The newly betrothed had had their wine glasses kept topped up all through dinner and the rest of the evening. So much so, in fact, that once the carols had been sung, the family had laughed uproariously as Aunt Ida quipped with a wink that they _must sure be looking forward to their wedding night_. All Bucky had managed to say before dissolving into laughter was _Aunt Ida! You ol’ scamp!_

Once the last round of hugs and _Merry Christmas_ es had been doled out, Steve and Bucky were free to stumble back to their bed, but they didn’t have a chance to exchange much more than drunk, sloppy kisses before promptly passing out.

When Bucky awoke in the morning, he was already swimming in a hangover. He looked at his phone to check the time. It was half past nine. His ring glinted in the light as he put his phone back, and it was a bittersweet punch to the gut.

He rolled over to shake Steve awake. “Steve,” he jostled him again, “Steve, we have to get going.” They needed to be in the car on the way to the airport by 11 if they were going to make their flight back to New York. Steve made a low long noise that might have passed as a groan, rolled over, and pulled the pillow over his head.

“Steve, c’mon.” Buck pressed a kiss to his shoulder and pulled the covers off of him. “This is hurting me as much as it’s hurting you,” he was certain of that. There was nothing he wanted to do more than just. not. move. All day.

He got up and poured two glasses of water, downing one on his way to drop the other off for Steve. “C’mon. Drink this. You’ll feel better.” It was only a bit of a lie.

He went and ran the shower. Being vertical was painful as fuck. His head was screaming in protest and his stomach was roiling. He had no idea how long he was in the shower for, but it was long enough that Steve knocked on the door before joining him, groggily citing something about missing their flight for sure if he waited for him to be done.

Bucky barely had enough sense about him to take what would likely be his last opportunity to see Steve naked to subtly check him out. Okay, maybe not so subtly. Steve caught him looking, laughed a little and leaned in for a kiss. Hungover as he had to be, Steve still turned a healthy pink all over.

Breakfast was a rushed affair. They did their best to eat the bacon, eggs, and toast that Winnie had plated up for them. The grease helped to ease Bucky’s stomach a bit, but he mostly stared into his black coffee cursing himself for drinking so much and praying to every deity he could think of that he wouldn’t vomit on the plane. He might have even made a few up.

When it was time to go, Sarah was in tears because she couldn’t go with them to the airport. Her parents were packing up their own car to head home across state, but if it had been up to Sarah, she would be going back to New York with Uncles Steve and Buck Buck. She’d plastered herself to Steve’s leg with a stubborn ferocity. It wasn’t until Steve went to pick her up that she let herself be pried free, wrapping her arms around his neck and holding fast there instead.

Steve pet her hair and wiped her tears and kissed her cheek. “It won’t be too long until you see Uncle Buck Buck again, kiddo,” he promised.

She hiccoughed and wiped her face.

“Can I have a hug, too?” Bucky held his arms out hopefully. Sarah pouted but nodded solemnly and unwound her arms from around Steve to reach back to Bucky.

He took her from Steve’s arms and held her tight. “I love you, Kiddo. I’ll see you in no time, okay?” He kissed the top of her head and put her down on the ground. For a split second Bucky thought maybe he saw Steve wiping away a tear of his own as he climbed into the back of Winnie’s car.

*

The car ride was long and silent. The two piled into the back seat leaving Winnie alone in the front, Steve napping against Bucky’s chest. Every once in a while she’d check on them in the rearview mirror. Bucky would catch her eye and return her smile.

What had he been thinking? It was one thing for them to play pretend lovers for the weekend, but his family had adored Steve. He was going to have to make up a break up story – no, a reason for calling off the _engagement_ – that his mother would buy. And explaining it to _Sarah_? That was going to kill him. He looked at the silver ring on his finger. They shouldn’t have done this. He looked at Steve, sleeping peacefully against him. Even worse than explaining to Sarah why her Uncle Steve wasn’t actually going to be her Uncle Steve was going to be returning to life without him around.

They arrived at the airport. Winnie escorted them in and gave them both big hugs. When she pulled Bucky into her arms, she squeezed him tight and said quietly, “Congratulations again, Buck. You really couldn’t have done better.” When she pulled away, her smile was full of pride and her eyes hinted at tears.

“Thanks, Ma.” Bucky kissed her cheek. For a moment he thought he was going to puke right there in the departures gate, whether it was from the hangover, lying to his mother, or the feeling of his heart breaking he wasn’t sure.

Bucky wanted to shove his ringed hand into the pocket of his jeans, but Steve wove his fingers between his and led him to their boarding gate. At least he didn’t have to continue to face the people he was lying to.

But it was time to go home, and time to go back to real life.


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Christmas Eve, my lovelies!
> 
> We're getting close to the end and that makes me really excited but also sad. But mostly excited.
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who has come back after each update to follow this silly boys on their angsty love story. You guys mean the world to me! And extra special thanks to everyone who stayed to yell things at me about the chapter updates! PTERODACTYL SCREAMS OF JOY AND ANGST RIGHT BACK AT YOU!
> 
> All my love,  
> GG

Steve reached for Bucky’s hand once they were seated and buckled in. His head wasn’t hurting nearly as badly as it had when he’d woken up, but he wouldn’t say he was right as rain. Only three or four hours until they landed in New York, and another hour until he would be back in his own bed. He was looking forward to being home, but only because he felt like he needed to sleep for three days to fully rid his body of the bottles of wine he’d drank the previous night.

“I had a really great week,” Steve leaned in to press a kiss to Bucky’s cheek. Bucky stiffened beneath the gesture. Steve pulled back as if he’d been electrocuted. _Oh, right._

He released Bucky’s hand wordlessly and turned to look out the window.

Steve shut his eyes, willing them to stop welling up. If Bucky said anything, he didn’t hear it over the sound of his own blood rushing in his ears. He’d let himself forget. It had only been one week. He’d thought maybe – well, it didn’t matter what he’d thought. He was wrong. Just one week and he’d let himself forget what this was.

A farce.

A transaction.

Nothing more.

He didn’t look at Bucky the whole flight home. He feigned sleep for the entirety of the trip, heart in his throat and biting back tears.

When they finally touched down in New York, Steve sat in silence. He couldn’t fake slumber any longer, and he couldn’t leap out of his seat and knock every lady and child seated ahead of them out of his way in an attempt to get back to his apartment and as far away from Bucky as he could manage. So he sat, as silent and still as humanly possible, hands folded in his lap.

They finally made it out of the plane and down the gangway, only having exchanged a couple of awkward smiles and _thank you_ s when Steve got their luggage from the overhead compartment.

They finally made it outside, and Steve drank in the fresh air of home. It was good to be back in New York, and he knew he was so close to escaping the heavy awkwardness that had settled between them. Bucky hailed a cab and put Steve in it with a casual thank you and an offer to e-mail him a tip.

Steve started to insist that a tip wasn’t necessary, but fuck it, whatever made Bucky feel good. “Whatever you want,” was all he managed before rolling his window up and giving the driver his address.

He laughed to himself as tears rolled down his face. What an _idiot_ he was. He’d seen Bucky play boyfriend before first-hand. He should have known better than to believe that a single word or touch had been real. He should have known better.

The driver asked him if he was okay. It just made Steve laugh harder. He shook his head.

No. No he wasn’t okay.


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas, guys! Here is the chapter you've all been yelling at me for!
> 
> Thank you so much to all of you have been along for the ride! We accumulated over 300 subscribers! I can't believe so many of you tuned in every week to follow our favourite idiots, but I'm so glad you did! I loved writing this fic, and you guys made me love posting this fic.
> 
> To everyone who followed the link at the end and supported me, THANK YOU SO MUCH. Your support means the world to me. If you've loved this fic and wanted to follow the link and show me a little love, that would be amazing. And if you're unable to and just want to scream your praise at me, that's just as appreciated.
> 
> This is the official final chapter. I'll be releasing an Epilogue later Christmas day or Boxing Day, as time allows.
> 
> Merry Christmas or whichever seasonal celebration you and yours are gathering for to share love and gratitude!
> 
> Love,  
> GG

Steve couldn’t believe he was _this_ late for his shift. Since he didn’t have to be at the gallery until 2, he’d stayed at the hotel with last night’s client drinking champagne and being fed strawberries before being fucked into the mattress for at _least_ an hour. But he’d still managed to stay up way too late, and when he’d woken up, an hour later than he’d meant to, room service had already been ordered and there was an extra grand in an envelope next to a silver dome covered plate that was home to a three-egg omelette, so he’d had the world’s quickest shower before forcing himself to eat a leisurely breakfast with his client and fake having all the time in the world. He’d lingered in the hall, stolen one extra kiss to really sell the effect, and as soon as the hotel door had been shut behind him, he’d sprinted to the guest parking to retrieve his bike and get to the gallery as quickly as he could.

And he would have made it in time if there hadn’t been an accident on the bridge.

So when he finally got to work, he barely had time to fix his hair and smooth his tie into place before walking quickly, but not rushed, into the gallery. He beelined for the backroom to stow his helmet and apologize to Gamora for being late. Steve caught a glimpse of her on his way across the room, and he could see from her face he was going to get an earful, which he deserved. But as he got closer he started to question if she was actually pissed. She almost looked… amused.

“I’m so sorry I’m late, Gee,” Steve panted a little as he tossed his stuff onto a chair in the back room. He grabbed his name tag from behind the counter and pinned it in place, taking the time to make sure it was straight.

Gamora crossed her arms across the white dress she was wearing and smirked. “You’ve got a stalker.”

Steve took a quick look over his shoulder like maybe they were standing right behind him. “I’ve got a what?”

“A stalker.” She nodded towards the thin crowd of people pacing and pausing between pieces of art. “A _gorgeous_ stalker,” she added. “He’s been in every day this weekend. That is the only piece he looks at.” Steve looked up to see which piece she was referring to. It was the metal heart he’d kept hidden in his studio for upwards of six months before dragging it into the gallery to see if he could get rid of it for cash instead of painting over it. At that moment several people were milling around it, pausing to pick up Steve’s business card from beside it before moving on to another piece. “Stop gaping. He’s not here right now. But when he is, he stands in front of it for a few hours, asks if you’re going to be in later when I go by to ask if I can help him, and then leaves a while after.”

“What do you tell him?” Steve asked.

“That I can’t supply him with that information,” Gamora looked offended, as if Steve thought she’d have said anything else.

Steve smiled, “Thanks. He’s probably harmless, but I appreciate it anyway.”

“Anytime. Oh!” she flashed a wide smile and waved politely to someone across the gallery, “Fisk is here. Gotta run,” she sauntered over to him gracefully. Steve watched as she offered her hand and let him kiss her cheeks. The guy gave Steve the creeps, but Gamora seemed to enjoy showing him around the gallery, and every few weeks he bought a hugely bland but expensive piece they thought would never sell.

Steve took a quick look at the clientele wandering the space before deciding to take his tie off and leave it behind the desk. He steered clear of Gamora and Fisk, who were making a round through what Steve secretly called _The Pretentious Wasteland_ , and headed to the front to chat with a woman who was looking through the postcards.

*

Steve had just finished his break and was headed back out to the gallery. He sipped his iced americano in the brisk February sunshine, enjoying the last moments of freedom before he spent the rest of the daylight hours indoors. Gamora was leaning against the back wall and accepted the paper cup of half sweet cinnamon dolce latte Steve handed her.

“Soy?”

“Soy.”

“Your stalker’s back,” she nodded towards the centre of the gallery before taking a sip of her coffee.

Steve turned to see a tall brunet with wide shoulders gazing up at Steve’s mangled heart. He was wearing an army green jacket over a navy sweater and had a navy ball cap on. Steve thought he looked a little like Buck, but he spotted Bucky in nearly any tall, brown haired, moderately attractive man around town, so he didn’t think much of it.

Steve took a last sip of his iced coffee before stowing it in the back room. He walked up behind the man who was staring intently at the black, red, and silver canvas, stopping just behind and to the right of him. Steve stuffed his hands into his pockets before looking up at the raw, towering heart.

“I hear you like this piece,” Steve said.

If Steve startled the man, he didn’t show it. “That’s an understatement. That organ crawls right under my skin until it feels like it’s replaced my own beating heart.”

Steve was a little stunned. He shied away from talking to the customers about his art, so he wasn’t used to hearing someone tell him how one of his paintings made them _feel_. And certainly not in such visceral terms.

“If you like it so much, why haven’t you bought it yet?” It wasn’t a tactful question, but Steve had had the tact knocked right out of him.

“Because the asking price isn’t enough and I wanted to renegotiate with the artist.”

Steve wasn’t sure he’d heard right. The asking price _wasn’t enough_? Steve looked at the little placard next to the painting.

_Steve Rogers_  
_Winter Heart  
_ _$5,500_

Steve had never asked more than $3,000 for one of his pieces before, but since he didn’t need the money to pay rent he wasn’t feeling desperate to sell the piece. And besides, it brought people into the gallery and he still enjoyed seeing it every day; even if it did make him blush when people paused to take it in, as if he were suddenly naked before them. So he’d set the price high. What he’d thought was almost _unreasonably_ high.

“What are you wanting to pay for it?” Steve had no idea how much money this guy was wanting to give him for his seemingly-beating heart.

The man turned to look at him. There was no mistaking Bucky.

“Ten grand and dinner?” Bucky gave Steve a hopeful smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He looked sad. Tired. Drained. When Steve stood there in stunned silence for a moment, Bucky bit his lower lip and looked like he was fighting back tears. “Look, I’m sorry I didn’t call. I just. I know it was an act. The whole week. But it felt so good. It felt so _right_. And I just.” Bucky’s voice cracked a little when he spoke next, “I fell in love with you.” He swallowed hard and took a deep breath. “And I thought I could swallow my feelings, I really thought I could. But I couldn’t. I haven’t been able to since. And that made it harder to call. But I just. I had to see you and tell you I love you on the off chance that maybe it wasn’t all an act. Maybe part of you actually likes me too. And at the very least I could bring home this part of you that makes me feel every cell in my body too clearly and maybe that would be enough.”

Steve didn’t have words. Bucky _fell in love with him over Christmas?_

“You fool,” was all Steve could manage. He hadn’t even realized how cruel he sounded until tears spilled over and rushed down Bucky’s cheeks. “What? No! No! I didn’t mean- I meant you’re an idiot- I meant- Fuck,” Steve closed the space between them and cradled Bucky’s face in his palms. He kissed each of his tear-streaked cheeks before pressing a chaste kiss to Bucky’s lips. He could feel Bucky melt into it, as if the only thing holding him up was Steve’s hands cupping his jaw. Steve deepened the kiss, licking gently at Bucky’s lips until they parted enough to let him in. It was a full minute before Steve realized he was kissing a client in the middle of the gallery. He pulled back, full-bodied blush appearing along his neck.

He stroked Bucky’s cheek with his thumb, “I never stopped loving you. It wasn’t an act. I wanted it to be, I tried for it to be, but it wasn’t. None of it was an act.” Bucky bit his lower lip again, but this time the smile that cracked across his face was genuine and full and it lit him up like the sun.

“Stop that, I want to kiss you again and I’m still on shift,” Steve pressed his forehead against Bucky’s.

“Sorry,” Bucky whispered, but he was grinning. He didn’t look sorry.

“Ten grand is too much. Asking price and dinner,” Steve bargained.

“I’m not paying less than ten grand,” Bucky stood his ground, but Steve could have sworn his lower lip had jutted out just a little bit. Was Bucky _pouting?_ “I should have stopped charging you ages ago. I liked you enough to pursue something before you let the _l-word_ slip, and I was too stubborn in not wanting to navigate that terrain to say anything about it.” He blushed a little and looked at his feet, “I’d give you a full refund except, you know, I’ve spent the money… on rent and shit.” He brought his gaze back to meet Steve’s, “So ten grand. And dinner. And I’m not charging you anymore.” He paused, like another idea had crossed his mind, “In fact, if you wanted to charge me for a bit until we’re even, I’d be okay with that.”

Steve laughed, “Don’t be ridiculous. Stop, stop, just stop. I’ll accept ten grand and dinner.” He was pretty sure the money was going to go into a separate account that he used to surprise and spoil Bucky, but that was neither here nor there. “Can you, uh, pay Gamora? Gallery policy is that we don’t ring up our family or friends, and seeing as I just kissed you in plain view of everyone here…”

“Yeah, I can do that,” Bucky laughed. “When are you off? Free for dinner?”

“Not until ten. Might be a little late,” Steve’s brows pinched up in concern, like maybe the whole deal hinged on him being available tonight.

“Ten’s great. I’ll come by to get you,” Bucky’s face was radiant with joy as he turned to find Gamora and complete his purchase.

Steve took a final look at his bleeding heart as the canvas was taken off the wall so Bucky could carry it out to a waiting truck. Steve watched him treat it like it was the most precious thing he’d ever had in his hands. He still wasn’t sure if his heart was wrapped or trapped in the metal armour, but he was sure there wasn’t a better person out there to keep it safe.


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas!
> 
> If you've been waiting for this to be a complete work and not a WIP, this is my Christmas gift to you!
> 
> Love to all of you, and may your real lives be filled with less angst and more fluff <3
> 
> Love,  
> GG

Epilogue

Steve blinked the sleep from his eyes. It took a moment for his brain to register his surroundings and remember that he wasn’t at home in his own bed in New York. The sun was creeping through the windows of Winnie’s guesthouse in Shelbyville. He blinked again. It couldn’t be later than seven.

Steve pressed a kiss to Bucky’s shoulder blade. “Buck,” he peppered the back of Bucky’s neck with kisses, “Buck, wake up.” Bucky grumbled but blinked the sleep from his eyes.

“Merry Christmas, Buck,” Steve gave him a small smile.

“Wha’time’sit?” Bucky slurred.

Steve laughed while he checked his phone. “Just about six thirty,” he pressed a kiss to Bucky’s cheek.

Bucky groaned. “Why’s’early?”

Steve laughed again. “You woke me earlier than this last year! And I liked getting to hang out with Sarah in the quiet before everyone else got up. C’mon, I’ll make coffee if you go run the shower.”

“Fine, fine, fine,” Bucky grumbled, but he kicked his feet free from the sheets and headed for the bathroom.

After a quick shared shower, they got dressed and gathered the gifts for Bucky’s relatives. Steve’s shopping had gotten a little out of hand this year. He’d managed to find seven equally perfect things for Sarah, and Bucky had had to put a stop to it, lest Steve spoil his niece. Steve also had several gifts for Winnie, and even found some questionable cross-stitch piece he thought Aunt Ida would enjoy; something about a barren field where she grew her fucks or something. Bucky had no idea how it was going to fly with his family, but Steve was certain she was going to get a kick out of it.

Just as Bucky was ready to grab the door, Steve caught him by the elbow. “Hold up, Buck. One last thing.” He was taking bags from Bucky’s hands and putting them on the floor next to the door. Steve pressed a small box wrapped in Christmas paper into Bucky’s hand.

He unwrapped it to reveal a small, plush, velvet-covered box. He opened it, eyes wide in surprise, and then looked back to find Steve on one knee in front of him.

“I meant every word I said last year, Buck. You’re the best person I’ve ever known. I’m the luckiest man to have the privilege to love you. I want to spend my life with you. For real. Not just as an act we play over the holidays for your family. You’re my life and I want to grow old with you. Will you marry me?”

Steve looked up at Bucky, heart in his throat, suddenly unsure of himself. Bucky was taking too long to answer. He looked truly stunned. Steve knew it hadn’t been a full year yet that they’d been properly dating, but he’d thought, maybe-

“You asshole, of course I will.”

Steve was bewildered but relieved. He took the simple silver band from Bucky and slipped it onto his ring finger. “It was my father’s wedding band,” he explained as he fit it into place. “I got it resized for-” He paused, “Where’s your ring from last year? You had it yesterday.”

“Would you just stand up, please?” Bucky was looking nervous and exasperated at the same time. Steve didn’t understand. He got to his feet, and Bucky pressed a kiss to his lips.

“You bastard. It was my year to propose,” Bucky pulled a ring box from his pocket and knelt before Steve.

It was Steve’s turn to look stunned.

“My beloved punk, who beats me to everything. I love you more than I’d thought it possible to love someone. I had more than that, but it doesn’t sound as good as what you just said. You asshole,” he laughed. Steve laughed too. It shook a couple tears loose.

“I want to grow old with you too. Will you marry me, Stevie?” Steve just laughed in response, nodding furiously. He knelt down next to Bucky and let Bucky slide the ring Steve had given him last year onto his hand.

“You’re terrible at being proposed to, you know that?” Bucky laughed. “You’re supposed to stand. Why are we _both_ on the floor?”

Steve just shook his head, he was so beside himself with laughter he couldn’t get words out. Once he finally got a hold of himself he pulled Bucky in for a proper kiss.

“Merry Christmas, Stevie.” Bucky helped him back to his feet.

“Merry Christmas, Buck.” Steve smiled at him.

At his _fiancé_.

For real this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you love it? Want to yell and throw things at me? [Do that here](https://graduategraduwait.wordpress.com/2016/09/12/escort-me-to-the-gates-of-hell/).
> 
> Come yell at me on [tumblr!](http://sebastiananigans.tumblr.com/)


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